Masters of Intrigue
by Surreptitious Chi X
Summary: Artemis Entreri and Jarlaxle prove themselves to be masters of intrigue in an adventure that leads them from the shores of the Lake of Steam to the nation of Lapaliiya, to a city of merchants on the Shining Sea. AU sequel to Servant of the Shard.
1. Prologue

**Masters of Intrigue**

* * *

Author's Note: This story takes place directly after_ Servant of the Shard _and disregards any canon after that point.

At different points, I may quote _Servant of the Shard_ or another work of canon preceding_ Servant of the Shard _as a reminder of what has happened in canon up to that point. I do this because R.A. Salvatore has created a potentially confusing timeline. Plus, it is a lot to ask of people to keep track of several books' worth of information.

* * *

From _Servant of the Shard_:

"Cadderly began casting yet again, a wind-walking spell that soon carried them out of the cathedral and across the miles to the south and east to the caverns of the mighty Hephaestus" (p. 312 hardback edition).

* * *

**Prologue**

After their luck in finding the village - more of a trading post, really - Jarlaxle scented out the metropolis north of them like a bloodhound and gathered supplies before getting them underway, armed with a map. Hephaestus' mountain had turned out to be part of the Firesteap Mountains, the squat mountain range running along one edge of the Shaar. Artemis was familiar with the existence of the Shaar; it was due east of Calimshan. However, he had never been to the Shaar because of the sharp cultural divide. Shaaryans were nomadic barbarians who preferred to handle things themselves. Such people had no need of an assassin.

After a day's trek, they arrived at the gates of Innarlith. Innarlith was not as seedy as Luskan, nor as compacted and piled up with architecture as Calimport. The city was relatively new, which meant it was mostly clean looking. However, as soon as they were waved through by the guards, they found themselves on a main avenue clogged with street vendors, beggars, and all manner of travelers, a morass similar to any large, dishonest city's.

What few guards there were seemed conspicuously bored.

Jarlaxle smiled and gestured, inhaling curry-scented air. "Ah...This could get to be a second home, couldn't it?"

Entreri looked around and saw merely a different face on every other city he'd ever been in. "Seems familiar enough, despite it all."

Jarlaxle nodded. "Exactly. I suspect it'll only take a few hours to feel out the place, and then we can settle on an inn for the night to plot our next move."

Entreri returned the nod. Anything was better than facing off with a red dragon. Plus, even though he didn't want to admit it, he was tired by this point. He really believed that Jarlaxle was developmentally the same age as he was, as far as the lifespan of a human and an elf were concerned. Surely Jarlaxle felt much the same.

Indeed, Jarlaxle's next words were, "I have the resources to allow for a period of rest before pragmatism demands we search for some method of employment. Let us take advantage of that."

"Let's," Entreri said without pause. He'd do his dead level best to stay in top shape to the day he died, but it didn't mean he wasn't going to age.

Unfortunately.

Jarlaxle scouted out the city for the next couple hours, buying them lunch in the process. At the end, he successfully drifted away from the main roads and to a quiet neighborhood, not poor but not wealthy. A reasonably polite creature with a rat's tail and ears pointed them to a block of flats being leased. The diversity of Innarlith proved a relief; Jarlaxle did not sense any strange looks on account of his lineage.

"This is even better than an inn," Jarlaxle said, walking up the steps of a brown stone building three stories tall. "We can set up a live-in office here if we please."

"As you say." Entreri honestly didn't care by that point as long as sleep entered the equation soon. He'd always been a night person rather than a day person, anyway, so having his time tables turned around did not to wonders for his temper. Nor did meeting a creature that vaguely reminded him of a wererat. He'd had to suppress wrinkling his nose.

Jarlaxle grinned and opened the door, holding it for Artemis after he'd walked through. He spoke politely with a human landlady about which flats were available for lease, the terms, the status of the flats, and narrowed it down to a second story two-room two-bed flat with a view of the side street. Gold and keys changed hands.

The interior of the building was well contructed but plain, with steps wide enough for one person going each way to pass without bumping into each other. Jarlaxle opened the door to their new flat with his key and looked around the front room. There was a row of pegs on the wall inside the door for coats and hats and things, a decorative table with a bowl of wax fruit on it with a mirror on the wall above, and a clerk's desk with chair.

Jarlaxle entered the door on the left and found one bedroom with two separated beds and the window with the view of the alley. Two dressers, one walk in closet, a chest at the foot of each bed.

He walked out across the hall and found a tiny bathroom barely big enough for the amenities in it.

Jarlaxle turned to Artemis with a smile. "The miracles of indoor plumbing. A pity the North hasn't caught up yet."

Entreri glanced into the bathroom. "Admittedly, if I have a hedonistic streak, then it applies to having indoor plumping."

Jarlaxle chuckled. "I know mine does." He ducked out of the small room in which the toilet, bathtub, and sink had been crammed. "Well, I can see what I need to buy: soap, shampoo, hair oils, lotion, tooth powder." Tooth powder, another invention found in southern countries, was like soap for one's mouth. The drow had a similar invention, a mouth rinse which was regrettably difficult to keep in supply.

He glanced at Artemis. "Anything else, while I'm making a list? I'd like to be fully functional as soon as possible."

Entreri considered the list. "Towels and rags." The beds, at least, had linens on them.

Jarlaxle nodded. "Would you like to stay behind? I see no point in both of us going along for a task that requires only one."

With his dimensional pocket, he had no need of additional people to carry parcels.

"Sure." Entreri wasn't going to argue that one. After being around Jarlaxle and various other strangers all day, he needed some time alone.

Jarlaxle tipped his hat. He had his key to the flat, and Artemis had the other. "I'll be back in a short time with supplies." He headed out the door.

After they both bathed and slept, they woke at midnight feeling refreshed. Jarlaxle sat down on the side of his bed and polished his boots, and Artemis did equipment maintenance as well.

Jarlaxle thought about their immediate future. They were starting over in a new arena, but that didn't mean they had to start at the bottom. They were both too skilled for that. Instead, he would need to do some aggressive advertising, pick up a half decent job, and make sure he and Artemis excelled at it. Word of mouth and repeated persistence would do the rest.

Of course, word of mouth would be so much more effective if they used their real names. Jarlaxle paused in the act of brushing polish on his left boot. "I was thinking of our plans...Would you prefer to be known by your true name, or some pseudonym? The advantage to your name is that people already know you, so your previous experience works for you. The disadvantage is that your old enemies can find you."

Entreri looked up from his dagger, which he was whetting. "I'm not concerned about any of my old enemies. Your enemies would be more the issue. If you feel secure, then I will use my own name."

Jarlaxle nodded. "I have no fear of old enemies," he said lightly. "After all, old enemies can be made into new allies."

That settled that issue. Jarlaxle resumed spreading polish on his boot. "The next question is, what type of work would you prefer? As my partner, you are certainly entitled to jobs that please you."

Entreri's attention returned to his dagger. "I'm less concerned with the type of job I do than I am with the type of company I'm required to keep. I've been a thief, an assassin, a bodyguard, a tracker, and various other things. I prefer jobs that are pleasantly challenging and that don't force me to keep the company of annoying people."

Jarlaxle smiled at that. "Then perhaps what we need is a signal. The easiest way to weed out annoying people is to screen clients as we talk to them. I'll look for your secret cue, and if I see that you have judged a client annoying, unworthy, et cetera, I'll politely let negotiations fall through."

"Sounds reasonable," Entreri said. He put up the whetting stone and brought out a cloth to begin polishing.

Jarlaxle was satisfied that they had a good basis for understanding. "Is there any minimum fee you consider fair for our services, or are you more swayed by a challenge than by payment?"

He switched to polishing, shining up his previously scuffed toe.

Entreri pondered that for a moment. "I think there should be a minimum fee, with the ultimate price based on the complexity and danger of the job. The challenge is merely a matter of my personal satisfaction, which is not necessary. Food, water, and clothing are necessary. Proper lodging is also preferred."

"Agreed. I have already made the necessary calculations. 600 gold is the amount of money we need to stay afloat, plus a profit of 100 gold each. As a matter of course I include 50 gold extra in our expenses for wiggle room. This is per month, of course. Based on how hard we want to work, we should be able to calculate a minimum fee with relative ease."

He finished with his left boot and started on his right. It was rather more scuffed up, so he went back to the jar of polish with a generous hand. "So, would you say between two and four jobs a month would be fair? Do you have any preference for longer jobs over shorter ones?"

"I'd say that's fair, yes." Entreri shrugged and sheathed his dagger. "Length is not really an issue for me, so that basically translates into two long jobs or four short jobs."

Jarlaxle nodded. "I'd say the ideal minimum fee for our services is 300 gold, but if something is difficult and only lasts a day, someone might succeed into haggling me down to 200." He grinned. "What do you think?"

Entreri put up his cleaning cloth and then lounged on his bed. "Sounds reasonable." If he believed in anything, it was Jarlaxle's capacity to make money.

_It could possibly be its own religion,_ he thought with a smirk.

Jarlaxle had a good feeling about this new start. And his feelings were his compass, so he couldn't be happier.


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

Mission of Mercy

* * *

After they were suitably attired and had eaten a simple, filling meal of hummus and flatbread at a local tavern, they set out on the job hunt. Jarlaxle pegged several likely places where job listings might gather, and they waded in, casually buying an ale here and there to smooth their passage into various taverns. Jarlaxle didn't expect to find anything that fit their requirements right away, but it was useful to get a feel for the job market.

He noted a lot of '100 gold kill Bargthegal the bandit' and '50 gold kill goblins' type jobs. _Must be a local problem._ At the sixth place they stopped at, there was even a listing for '600 gold wipe out ogre camp', but such a thing wasn't challenging or interesting.

Jarlaxle passed it up without a pang, certain there would be something better around the corner.

He was right, as usual. When he and Artemis had just finished breakfast at a small outdoor cafe, two hours after sunrise, a plain-faced woman in a heavy brown dress and Calishite style veil scurried to intercept them before they could get lost in morning foot traffic on the street.

Jarlaxle stopped and tipped his hat. "May we help you?"

She bowed three times, glancing at Artemis. "You are Artemis Enteri, are you not?"

Jarlaxle smiled and let Artemis field that question.

Entreri skipped the smartass answer and went for bluntness instead. "I am."

The woman bowed again, and murmured a tribute to Tymora. "I am a servant. The lady of my house, yesterday she received a dire threat, and her husband, my master, has been frantic. I know that you will be able to help them. My master's name is Vilok Amra. The Swami Amra."

Jarlaxle glanced to Artemis. He'd never heard of a 'swami', but he wondered if that meant something important.

"Lord Amra," Entreri murmured to Jarlaxle. "Then you will take us to Swami Amra so we may discuss terms and payment?"

She bowed once more and led them down the street at a solicitous pace, weaving through traffic but not too fast.

Jarlaxle was thrumming with high hopes. _A lord. This is interesting, indeed._

The servant led them on a winding path through the city, the traffic growing thinner and thinner around them until they reached the quarter reserved for the wealthy. They passed a grandiose library of white marble and a tropical garden with a restaurant nestled inside it. Finally came the views of the mansions, all of white stone and with various domes and balconies.

Their destination was a palace much wider than it was tall, with a water garden constructed to display many pools of flat, shining water.

Entreri took in his surroundings carefully for the simple purpose of 1) scanning for possible threats, and 2) memorizing the city. The splendor left no impression at all.

Jarlaxle, meanwhile, took in the splendor with interest, analyzing the architecture. It was similar to Calimshan in the preference for domes, but the overall look was less militant. The windows were not small slits, but wide to let in the breeze. That hinted that the crime rate was lower here than Calimshan.

And yet there was trouble involving a death threat.

The servant woman let them in a side entrance marked with small palm trees and led them into an expansive foyer. She spoke in a murmur to a man who appeared to be a guard; he wore no armor, but had the bearing of someone with martial training. His clothing was simple, a red vest and loose white pants. That also reminded Jarlaxle of Calimshan.

The man then bowed to Jarlaxle and Artemis and said in a deep voice, "Please wait here."

The servant woman helpfully supplied, "He is going to get the master."

The man who might or might not be a guard walked up an expansive staircase and disappeared down a hallway.

Jarlaxle noticed again a lack of alarm at his being drow. He considered that circumstantial proof that surface dwelling drow were more common here. Or perhaps being in Artemis Entreri's presence marked him as acceptable? He would find out soon.

The interior of the palace was pleasantly cool, and lightly perfumed with jasmine. Though they were left standing, it was a comfortable place to wait.

Entreri bided the time in silence. His surroundings were vaguely familiar, which had a strange soothing effect he didn't care to analyze. Despite just having arrived in this place, things seemed much as they had been since he was a teenager.

Jarlaxle judged that five minutes or so had passed when the guard reappeared, joined by another man in identical garb. Behind them was a slim man wearing a turban, clothed in fine white garments accented with gold. Jarlaxle glanced at Artemis and murmured, "The Swami Amra?"

The man and his guards had a long walk, from the left side of the second story hallway to the grand staircase leading down to the foyer where Jarlaxle and Artemis stood. Their pace was not hurried, but it was purposeful instead of languorous.

"One assumes," Entreri murmured. He reflected that one exceptional benefit to not working for a guild meant that he could reject any job he didn't like. Granted, at the top of his career he'd been able to turn down jobs without any backlash, but he'd also spent many years just doing as ordered.

The man in the turban passed his guards at the bottom of the stairs, leading them by three steps. He stopped in front of Artemis and Jarlaxle with five feet between them and bowed deeply. "Master Entreri. Please allow me to invite you and your associate into my home. My name is Vilok Amra. You have come at a time of great trouble, and I am honored at your presence."

Entreri bowed in return. Although he put no personal stock in social graces, it didn't mean he couldn't follow along with them. "We're honored as well." He gestured to Jarlaxle. "This is Jarlaxle."

Jarlaxle bowed as Entreri did, picking up the social cue. He swept off his hat and replaced it when he straightened. Face to face, Jarlaxle could see that Vilok was five to ten years younger than Artemis. They were also similar in size. Vilok's shoulders were slightly wider, and his height was artificially enhanced by the turban. But they were both slim men who looked alike in many superficial ways. _This man is from Calimshan_.

"Please, follow me. Allow me to make you comfortable." Vilok gestured. "There is a room down the hall to the right where we may sit."

Entreri nodded and followed Vilok, thinking he could get used to following this business model instead.

Jarlaxle followed a step behind Artemis, content to be the less important of the two.

Vilok led them to a spacious room shaped roughly like a sphere, with a high, domed roof and low seats that were soft, round cushions. A table with tiny legs already bore refreshments. Jarlaxle saw tiny pastries and slices of fruit on silver platters. He also smelled both coffee and tea.

The guards hung back in the doorway.

Vilok stayed standing near the table. "Please, be seated. Wherever you wish."

Entreri understood the culture well enough to sit on a cushion at the low table. It would be rude not to accept the hospitality. "Thank you for the food," he said, following tradition. Also based on tradition, he took a small serving of food and a half cup of coffee. Serving oneself in abundance indicated a short visit and could imply either impatience or gluttony.

Vilok relaxed, and Jarlaxle once again followed Entreri's lead, sitting carefully by Artemis' side and serving himself a small portion. The swami sat across the table from them, seated himself in an elaborate cross-legged position, and also helped himself to a few pastries and a small cup of coffee. "My servant Alinah was presumptuous. It is good of you to forgive her. She loves my wife, and is greatly disturbed at the thought that someone would want to harm my Lalani. I received the death threat yesterday. I have not slept."

Jarlaxle nodded politely. He chewed a square of thick lemon jelly coated in sugar and swallowed.

"Understandably," Entreri said, for once on his best behavior. This was a job negotiation, after all. He took a bite of a swirled cinnamon and sugar pastry. He wasn't overly given to sweets, but he did like cinnamon. "Do you know the source of the threat?"

Vilok's facial muscles twitched in a split-second expression of dread. He nodded. "I do, indeed. The message was sent by the assassin Servantis Illiosene." The swami hesitated. "In the land of the far east, his name brings fear and respect as your name does." He added quickly, "I know nothing of his actual talents, but many rumors. I am afraid. Afraid for my wife. I am not ashamed to be afraid, for that is the measure of my love for my Lalani. I cannot help but be fierce in my desire not to lose her."

"Why send the note?" Jarlaxle asked. He wasn't afraid to be pegged the ignorant one.

Vilok's gaze flickered to Jarlaxle. Then he looked back to Artemis and took them both in. "Servantis Illiosene warns his victims because he wishes a direct confrontation."

Jarlaxle restrained a smile. That tactic sounded familiar.

"So he wishes to fight you one-on-one," Entreri said. He took a sip of his coffee. It was a dark roast, strong and bitter. "But you have no idea what his actual skill set is." He went no further, politely leaving a gap for Vilok to admit to his own strengths or weaknesses. It would be insulting to assume Vilok didn't know how to fight.

Vilok inclined his head wearily. "He is famous for using many weapons. Different depending on the occasion. My skill with a scimitar is formidable in a duel, but will not save me here. I am trained in ceremonial combat. This is not."

Jarlaxle was distracted by the name Illiosene. Something about that name was touching on a memory, but too lightly to place. He ventured another question that might be seen as stupid. "Where is this Servantis Illiosene from?"

"Illiosene is an assassin from the land of Dambrath."

Jarlaxle's eyes widened briefly. "Dambrath? Then he isn't human, is he?"

"No." Vilok examined his coffee. "Servantis Illiosene is a Crinti."

Jarlaxle glanced at Artemis. He wanted to make sure Artemis was following this. "Crinti are descendents of drow and humans, are they not? Or is that rumor?"

"It is no rumor," Vilok muttered. "It is a nightmare."

Jarlaxle inwardly congratulated himself. Illosene was a drow name. To be precise, one of the main houses of T'lindhet, the drow city famous for farming out their surface properties to humans. The matron mothers of Menzoberranzan did not mention the city of T'lindhet partially because it was so far south of them. But the main reason was that they were jealous.

"I see," Entreri murmured. "The source of your concern is quite clear, then. An assassin of partially drow descent who is proficient in multiple weapons has targetted your wife." He understood now why Jarlaxle's presence was likely tolerated. "As you said, ceremonial combat will not be enough to save your wife. Am I to assume, then, that you would like us to eliminate Illiosene for you?"

Vilok nodded. "Yes." He raised his eyes from his coffee cup. "Together or with your skill alone, it does not matter. I assume that having a drow as an associate is an advantage."

"Sometimes," Jarlaxle quipped. "I admit I am not always to Master Entreri's advantage, but I try."

Vilok accepted that without a trace of a smile. In fact, he looked too tired to smile at anything. "I am prepared to pay you 100,000 gold to spare my wife the death Illiosene has prepared for her."

Jarlaxle was glad he was wearing an eye patch instead of the monocle he'd considered switching to a month ago. The monocle would have jumped off his face and fallen into his coffee.

Entreri accepted this new stoically. "Very well. We accept." Given the sum of gold Vilok had just quoted, Entreri figured it was safe to assume that Jarlaxle was on board with this.

Jarlaxle nodded, once again amazing himself with his acting skills. In spite of his quickly beating heart and urge to smile, he remained outwardly calm.

Vilok bowed while sitting, virtually kowtowing to them. "Your wishes are paramount in how you go about this mission of mercy. I bow to your judgment."

Jarlaxle didn't think the term 'mission of mercy' would go over well with Artemis, but he himself didn't mind. "Illiosene didn't happen to say when he was arriving, did he?"

"In one week I will receive another note," Vilok said gloomily.

"May we see the message you have already received?" Jarlaxle asked.

Vilok nodded.

Entreri thought the phrase "mission of mercy" didn't apply here, given they were being paid, but he otherwise ignored it. He was pleased, however, to see Vilok wasn't going to tell him his business.

Vilok spoke to his guards in another language. One of them peeled off and went to find somebody, then came back. Within a few minutes, Alinah, the servant who had brought them here, presented a piece of rolled parchment. Vilok handed the parchment to Jarlaxle.

Jarlaxle carefully unrolled it and read out loud. "The life of your wife, Lalani Lopa, is forfeit. I will come for her one week hence. Tell all that you are being visited by Servantis Illiosene. Once I am prepared to take the life of the one known as Lalani Amra, I will send another message so that you may expect me."

He raised an eyebrow at Artemis. Somehow, he didn't imagine Artemis being as dramatic.

Entreri snorted faintly. "He draws quite a bit of attention to himself." He set that aside to consider what was actually being said. "Convenient of him to mark when he will come. He must be quite confident, given he has bought you time to hire people like us."

Vilok nodded, looking a shade paler. Jarlaxle considered that the effect of having the words of the note read out loud.

"In other words, he wants a fight," Jarlaxle said. "Knowing you would want to protect your wife by any means necessary, Illiosene seeks to up the challenge for himself."

Vilok looked puzzled. "I only considered the effect upon myself: rapidly deteriorating morale."

"People like Illiosene often crave challenges," Jarlaxle explained.

Being such a man himself, Entreri could only agree. Still, he wasn't the type to announce himself. "In short, he's bored, and he'll expect people like us to be here. But no matter. We'll give him his challenge, and then we'll give you his head."

Some color returned to Vilok's face at Artemis' confidence. "And I will gladly give 100,000 gold."

Jarlaxle wanted more information on the situation. "Illiosene is an assassin for hire, is he not?"

Vilok nodded.

"Any ideas who hired him?" Jarlaxle asked.

"One," Vilok said.

Jarlaxle raised an eyebrow. "Only one? Then you must be virtually certain."

Vilok nodded again. "The one I am, as you say, virtually certain has hired Illiosene to kill my wife is the man my wife would have married."

"I suppose you've considered that Illiosene's death will not solve the problem," Jarlaxle said.

"Yes," Vilok admitted. His gaze flickered to Artemis hesitantly. "I had considered asking you to deal with the underlying problem as soon as the immediate danger is past."

Entreri nodded. "Certainly we may discuss that once the time comes." He sipped his coffee again. It was a fine roast; he could tell.

Vilok relaxed. "Indeed. Prevailing against Servantis Illiosene's immediate threat to my wife's safety is of key importance."

The way Jarlaxle saw it, they had nearly a week to brainstorm strategies and gather information before they would be forced to put a plan to use. That was plenty of time to draw on his contacts through Bregan D'aerthe. They could also memorize the layout of Amra's palace and discuss where to keep Lalani Amra for the duration of the trouble.

All in all, he thought the odds of success were pretty good.

The trick was to see if there was any way to salvage Servantis Illiosene in the process. Not that Jarlaxle was going to share that thought with Artemis.

"Indeed," Entreri murmured. Vilok's loyalty to his wife made him respectable thus far, and the job seemed promising. Overall, he was pleased. "I believe we have the initial information we need. We should not abuse your hospitality further, although we thank you for your kindness." Again, he relied on tradition to close the meeting.

Vilok nodded and rose. "My hospitality is at your disposal, Master Entreri."

They rose and exchanged bows again. Vilok personally saw them out of the palace, through the front entrance this time. The path wound through a lovely garden on the way back to the street. Jarlaxle enjoyed the large palm ferns and expanses of calm, glittering water. He wouldn't mind having a place like this someday to relax in.

Once they were back on the streets towards their new flat, Jarlaxle commented, "A man who loves his wife. Is that as rare as a Matron Mother who loves her mate?"

"Yes," Entreri said. It was something he'd seen little of in his life and basically felt didn't exist very often.

"Hmm." Jarlaxle dwelled on that. Then he gave Entreri a brilliant grin. "Trust you to find an extraordinary client! Rarity must attract rarity."

Entreri assumed he was being patronized, although not to an offensive extent. He settled for a neutral response. "If so, then let us be glad of it." His lips quirked slightly. "It's a wonder you didn't swallow your own tongue as his sum of payment."

"If I swallow my tongue, how can I speak?" Jarlaxle asked, pretending to be indignant at the idea. "I would never make such a silly mistake. Speaking is my chief pleasure in life."

Entreri snorted with mirth. "Indeed."


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Preparation

* * *

They checked in at their flat to make sure it was secure, then went shopping in Innarlith's crowded marketplace for supplies. A big battle meant having healing potions on hand, and Jarlaxle ate up most of the afternoon perusing magical artifacts. The high point of the day was scoring some elven chainmail for Artemis; against anyone part drow, he'd need it. Jarlaxle also stocked up on poison antidotes. He had a ring for that, but it was basic. The Crinti of Dambrath had centuries of insulated development in which to come up with nasty things to do to people. Jarlaxle wanted antidotes for everything.

Over supper, Jarlaxle decided to fill Artemis in on the Crinti of Dambrath more fully. He found a great restaurant that served spicy tomato soup and flatbreads sprinkled with cheese and herbs and fried meat. As always when they had an enemy to fight, Jarlaxle ate with gusto. "Dambrath is east of here. The country is closed off to outsiders unless they're merchants, and all trade stops just inside the border. Anyone found beyond the santioned area is liable to be killed. Queen Hasifir is afraid of being taken over by her enemies. She's in a vulnerable position. It wasn't always so; Dambrath in the past has been a fearsome threat to the surrounding nations."

Jarlaxle paused to wash his food down with white wine. "Many factions inside of Dambrath oppose Hasifir, for the reason that she looks weak in her dealings with other nations. She intends to isolate Dambrath and use the military as a defensive force. Given your time in Menzoberranzan, you know most drow would find such leadership insulting."

He gestured. "My point is, Servantis Illiosene likely has deserted his people because of his nation's cowardly leadership, and he does what he does to prove his worth."

"Interesting." Entreri could comprehend Illiosene's position. He took a bite of his flatbread, savoring the garlic. "His melodramatic approach is going to get him killed, however."

Jarlaxle smiled wryly. "Everyone gets killed without allies, my friend, and Crinti are not bred to cultivate any. One manner in which Crinti are different than the drow is that their human blood comes from the Church of Loviatar. The religion of Dambrath is therefore not Lloth, but Loviatar, the goddess who charmingly carries the nickname Maiden of Pain."

He drank a sip of wine and sighed. "What do you know of Loviatar?" Jarlaxle sighed because the reminder of the religion angle pointed out an area of difficulty in recruiting Servantis, even if he had the chance.

"Nothing," Entreri said unapologetically. He had no use for gods of any kind. He sipped on his ale; it was one of the better ones he'd found. At least it didn't taste like fermented piss.

Jarlaxle nodded and ate a bite of flatbread. He'd chosen herb, cheese, and panchetta. "Loviatar, basically, is a bully. The behavior she encourages is to mercilessly inflict pain on oneself and everyone else. The social life of a Crinti, then, becomes an elaborate pain contest. There can be no allies in such a game. Loviatar's strictness in this far surpasses Lloth's creedo of manipulation."

"Sounds lovely," Entreri drawled. "The drow certainly have a penchant for picking insane goddesses."

Jarlaxle snorted. "You can't blame this one on the drow. Loviatar is a human goddess. Her followers are predominantly human, and it was human females who brought their religion into the deal with the drow that was struck centuries ago. T'lindhet, the drow city underneath Dambrath, chose to negotiate with the surface dwellers above instead of conquer. In fact, because of this choice, and their relaxed stance towards monitoring their surface kingdom, one could say the T'lindhet drow are unusually passive. Other drow call them lazy and disinterested, but on the few occasions I have spoken to a drow from T'lindhet, I have noticed an unusually laidback attitude."

He shook his head and took another bite of spicy soup. "I'm afraid it's the human influence that has worsened Dambrath's social structure."

Then he grinned. "Not that I have a personal stake in this topic, because I don't. Regardless of where the fault lies, Servantis Illiosene probably found it easy to leave his people behind because he had nothing to live for there. In both Loviatar's philosophy and in Lloth's, males are less important than females, and Loviatar preaches such extreme social isolation that Illiosene had no ties to other people to consider."

Entreri nodded. "So what advantage or insight are you suggesting we make use of here?" He didn't personally care about Illiosene's motivations, after all, except to the extent he could manipulate them.

"If there is anything we can make use of, it is sadism," Jarlaxle said. "Probably Illiosene is compelled to make his victims suffer once his victory seems assured. I would almost guarantee that he makes sure his marks die slowly. Since we both have a high pain threshhold and superb acting skills, Illiosene is likely to misjudge the extent to which we are vulnerable."

He wagged an index finger. "And, due to Illiosene's upbringing, we can be sure that he has no allies to fall back on to save him. We are entering this fight two-to-one."

Entreri nodded again. The latter he'd assumed based on the given information. However, the former was an interesting element to ponder. "Sounds like a compelling challenge, all the same."

The irony of his statement was not lost on him.

"Especially because Illiosene will not fear pain," Jarlaxle said. He was pleased with Artemis' interest. _This is an excellent job. Specific timeline, interesting challenge, and fantastic pay_.

He took a big bite of flatbread after dipping it in his soup. "The only way is to kill Illiosene cleanly. Anything less than a perfect kill and he may very well fight back with rabid enthusiasm."

That was indeed a fascinating point to consider. "Certainly I haven't met a foe quite like this one, then." Entreri turned his attention to his soup, which was saved from blandness by its spicy nature.

Jarlaxle nodded. "Indeed." Perhaps he should venerate Tymora. Artemis had often pointed out his extraordinary luck. Of course, that idea would never stick, because Jarlaxle was not accustomed to venerating anybody except himself. The only people he believed in as strongly were Drizzt and Artemis, for different reasons. Drizzt Do'Urden couldn't give up if he wanted to. He was too well trained to persevere. Artemis Entreri, on the other hand, wouldn't give up. Not if his friend was in his right mind.

That qualification was something Jarlaxle considered himself the keeper of: it was his responsibility to keep Artemis Entteri sane.

After dinner, they spent leisurely time at their flat bathing and tending to equipment, as well as adjusting to the sounds of the other tenants. Someone on the ground floor played a string instrument. Jarlaxle was unfamiliar with it, but he liked the sound.

When it was thoroughly dark, and most sound had stopped, Jarlaxle set off to speak with Kimmuriel. He wanted to tap Bregan D'aerthe's resources to find out particulars about Servantis Illiosene.

The next three days were a blur of activity. Artemis and Jarlaxle received a tour of Vilok Amra's mansion, and a blueprint. They spent the better part of two days mapping out vulnerable areas and arranging for Vilok's wife to occupy the safest room in the palace, a room with one entrance, no windows, no balcony, near the center of the home, and with ample guards. They met Lalani Amra briefly; she was so covered up in her traditional garb that the only impression was of honey skin and dark, dark eyes. However, Lalani and Vilok interacted with a sentimentality so sodden and unaffected that Jarlaxle thought Artemis was going to throw up.

No one could fake that kind of lovesick pandering and mutual dependence. That, at least, proved that Vilok was as invested in his wife as he claimed.

Jarlaxle didn't pretend to understand their behavior, but he could judge its veracity.

On the third evening, Kimmuriel summoned him to Bregan D'aerthe headquarters for the full report on Servantis Illiosene. Jarlaxle skimmed it and brought it back to the flat to share with Artemis. He emerged from the blue portal waving a scroll. "This, my friend, is what my informants have to say about our opponent."

He sat down on the side of his bed and unrolled it. "Feel free to gather around and read it with me. I have no compunctions against sharing." Jarlaxle knew he had never done such a thing before, but he saw no reason not to share completely with Artemis now. Their ordeal with Crenshinibon had proven much and bolstered his belief in Artemis' unwavering loyalty.

Entreri paused for a moment, then climbed off his bed and settled by Jarlaxle, peering at the scroll.

Jarlaxle glanced at him with a hint of a smile. "I ordered that the report be produced in Common."

Entreri snorted. "Thoughtful of you. Although more to the point, it was irritating to Kimmuriel, I'm sure." Something he always appreciated.

Jarlaxle grinned and chuckled. Then he settled in to read the full report.

Servantis Illiosene

Age: 54

Height: 5 foot 7 inches

Weight: 140 lbs (estimate)

Build: slim waist, muscular shoulders, long legs

Hair: silver

Skin: brownish gray

Eyes: crimson

"So he is a young adult," Jarlaxle murmured. "Barely adult. The same as a...an eighteen year old human, I suppose."

Without waiting for a comment, he resumed reading.

Weapons: scourge (barbed whip), throwing knives, garotte, long sword, dirk, hand axe, scimitar, pole, throwing stars

Jarlaxle glanced up. "That is a long list of weaponry. He's covered short range, mid range, and long range."

Entreri shrugged. "As only a good assassin would." Despite his penchant for a long sword matched with a dagger, he was actually proficient at several weapons.

Jarlaxle set aside his impulse to go over blueprints again and instead kept reading.

Illiosene left Dambrath at 48 years old, worked first for Nawab Bindihan of Durpar, killed 6 business rivals until Bindihan's scheme was uncovered. Illiosene escaped without confrontation. Next employed by Rajah of Estagund, number of assassinations unknown. Spent 2 years in Estagund. Moved on to Var, where employed by more than one hajwa, or nobles with land holdings. Once work was exhausted, Illiosene worked his way west. Trail of clients harder to identify.

"It seems our adversary grew bored harvesting the fruits of political chaos," Jarlaxle murmured. Durpar, Estagund, and Var were all kindgoms with highly pressurized political scenes.

Illiosene left Dambrath at 48 years old, worked first for Nawab Bindihan of Durpar, killed 6 business rivals until Bindihan's scheme was uncovered. Illiosene escaped without confrontation. Next employed by Rajah of Estagund, number of assassinations unknown. Spent 2 years in Estagund. Moved on to Var, where employed by more than one hajwa, or nobles with land holdings. Once work was exhausted, Illiosene worked his way west. Trail of clients harder to identify.

"It seems our adversary grew bored harvesting the fruits of political chaos," Jarlaxle murmured. Durpar, Estagund, and Var were all kindgoms with highly pressurized political scenes.

"That's understandable," Entreri said. Such things could be quite tiring over time.

A Jarlaxle unrolled the next part of the scroll and rolled up the part they had already read. He noted that Entreri was a fast reader. The assassin was keeping up with him, and he knew that he himself read quickly.

Methods: Illiosene's victims either appear unrecognizable, or with their heads separated from their bodies: *(bodies mising).

List of Notes:

1. I am the shadow across your door, son of the Dark Maiden, Servantis Illiosene. The life of Abheer Amin is forfeit. I will come to collect in three days.

2. Anand Bagul falls under the shadow of the Maiden of Pain. Servantis Illiosene will come to collect his soul. You have four days. Meet in the olive grove or forfeit the lives of the Bagul clan.

3. Your enemies have sold your soul to me, Servantis Illiosene. I will come to collect when the moon eclipses. Be ready.

Jarlaxle glanced at Artemis. "There can be no doubt all of the notes were written by the same person, and the diction is the same as the note our client Swami Amra received."

"Indeed." Entreri considered the overall picture that was being painted. "He's developed a specific modus operandi over the years. He isn't just an assassin for hire anymore. He's elevated it into an artform. Although he works as a mercenary, he doesn't think like one. It sounds like he's entered the realm of obsession. My guess is he has to kill in order to feel fulfilled now."

Jarlaxle gave a slow, decisive nod. "I think that is an apt summation. Illiosene is not killing because he has to, because it is efficient. He seeks out clients willing to pay for his habits."

He tapped the words 'Maiden of Pain' from the second note that had been transcribed. "There is no doubt whom he is working for, in his own mind. He dedicates his killings to Loviatar."

"Even that may be an excuse for what has become an obsession for him," Entreri said.

Jarlaxle said, "It may be. Perhaps the only thing that matters to him is the act of killing." He added the obvious: "That makes Illiosene very different from you or me."

"Yes," Entreri said, for to him that was the point. "And it's something we must keep in mind. Those who've fallen into a ritualistic obsession have left the boundaries of reality. In short, he's criminally insane."

"That makes him much more dangerous. I believe we should take him on together from the start," Jarlaxle said.

Their teamwork was not terrible, but they mostly sparred against each other, not with each other as partners. He made a mental note to ask if Amra was willing to lend them a sparring opponent out of the staff of guards Amra kept around.

"I agree." Entreri was used to Jarlaxle's style by now, so he had an idea of what to expect from his partner. It would take some practice, though, for them to coordinate given the basic differences between their styles.

Jarlaxle inwardly relaxed at Entreri's acceptance. Of course, he hadn't shown his slight misgiving on the outside. "I'll ask our client to provide us with a suitable sparring opponent." He grinned. "If we state that we are not going to injure or kill this man, I doubt Swami Amra will have a problem with that request."

He looked forward to practicing with Artemis as one half of a team strategy. "We have excellent instincts on the battlefield; our styles should soon mesh."

Entreri nodded. "I'm sure Amra would arrange that for us." He had the upmost confidence in both their abilities to adapt to each other as swordsmen. Even if Jarlaxle's style was too grandiose.

xXx

Over the next three days Artemis and Jarlaxle sparred with Vilok Amra's head guard, a tall and muscular Shaaryan who could almost keep up with them. As a Shaaryan, he had pale hair shorn short and light brown skin, and vivid green eyes. His name was Aramyati. They sparred first in the open air of the courtyard, then inside at various locations, developing different strategies for each place. Sometimes Swami Amra watched them from a safe distance. Other times he was absent.

As soon as their task was to work together, Jarlaxle dropped his grandiose posturing and fell back on the to-the-point finesse he had learned earlier in his life. This style meshed with Entreri's right away. The only object of their practice was to make their two styles fit together seamlessly.

At the end of the third day, they could overwhelm Aramyati in less than thirty seconds, no matter what setting they had chosen for their sparring match.

After a crushing defeat right before supper on the evening before Illiosene's scheduled appearance, Aramyati humbly begged not to continue. Jarlaxle and Artemis humored him.

Amra insisted on serving them dinner, dining among his guards and with his wife in attendance, veiled as before in many layers of beautiful fabric.

The table was low, with cushions for seating, a long rectangular arrangement laden with many dishes. Jarlaxle and Artemis sat near the head of the table at Amra's side as honored guests, the wife on Amra's other side. Jarlaxle helped himself to pidgeon pie, a delicacy he had tasted in Calimport and enjoyed. The spiced meat was both sweet and savory. The crust was not meant to be eaten. It was a vehicle for baking only. The insides of the pie were traditionally scooped out with one's left hand, but Amra had employed the modern touch of wooden utensils, spoons with markings on the end like a fork. Forks were not popular among humans.

The murmur of conversation enrobed this meal in a pleasant atmosphere. Jarlaxle could not and would not fully engage, but he could appreciate the calmness in the room.

Entreri was silent as usual, unless he was directly asked a question. Those he answered politely, making sure to stay in his employer's good graces. Given the payment for this job and the fact Entreri needed to establish himself in the city, he couldn't afford to not be polite and at least marginally social. It emotionally drained him of energy to do so, but alas, it was a price he had to pay at the moment.

The voice of Amra's wife, Lalani, broke into the quietly festive atmosphere. "I don't think I shall be able to sleep tonight."

Vilok scrambled to reassure her. "Now, now, my precious, it is better if you do." He reached out and squeezed her delicate, ring-laden hand. She wore as many rings as Jarlaxle.

She trembled underneath her wraps. "I cannot, with that wolf at my door."

Vilok petted her hand. "You shall sleep soundly. You will see. Palomi will prepare a sleeping draught for you if necessary. There is no need for you to suffer needlessly through this process."

Jarlaxle found himself averting his eyes with a surge of embarrassment.

AEntreri tried to ignore the syrupy sweetness, but he found himself analyzing the practicality of the situation. It would be better if the woman didn't sleep. If something went wrong, she wouldn't be able to scream to notify them. However, he wasn't going to point that out.

"No. No, Vilok, I do not want to sleep."

Jarlaxle glanced at Lalani in surprise at her rejection.

Lalani clung to Vilok's hand. "Please, husband, do not make me."

"Alright." Vilok glanced at the other people around the table uneasily. "Alright. I will not turn kindness into tyranny. If you wish to lie awake..."

"I do," Lalani said.

Jarlaxle had no idea how welcome he was to speak, but he nodded. His thoughts ran a similar path to Artemis'. _Better that the lady lie awake than be caught unprepared if Illiosene doesn't feel like waiting._

A Entreri nodded as well, adding his silent agreement to Jarlaxle's. After a moment, he relented and spoke. "It is better that way since it is her safety we wish to ensure."

Vilok looked at them with uncertainty. "You are right, of course." His expression firmed after a moment. "Yes. Whatever increases the chance of success."

He turned back to his wife. "Hopefully this will all be over soon. Tymora willing."

_A goddess has nothing to do with it,_ Entreri thought darkly, but he kept his cynicism to himself. Unless confronted or asked, Entreri generally kept his opinion of religion to himself, given that aetheism was rare in Faerun.

A young man in a red vest and loose white pants ran into the room. "A note! Swami, a note at the front door! A creature like I have never seen crawled down from the wall like a spider and was gone, taken wing on a swift breeze. He left this behind at the door." He ran all the way to where the swami was seated and bowed low, handing off the rolled up piece of parchment. Then he backed away, bowing his way out of the banquet hall.

Vilok sat frozen.

Jarlaxle cleared his throat and glanced at Artemis.

The room was silent.

Entreri hid his sigh. "Let us hear what we have to face. It is better to prepare right away."

Vilok unrolled the scroll with shaking hands. He read unsteadily, stumbling over the words. "The shadow of Servantis Illiosene has fallen across your door. The flower that blooms in these palace walls will shrivel and die. I come at midnight." He swallowed convulsively. "Be prepared." He handed off the note to Artemis. "That's all it says."

Jarlaxle raised an eyebrow. "Distinctly more flowery than previous messages have been. That may be a sign that Illiosene's sanity is slipping once and for all. When a person's mind slips into delusions, grandiose speech and writing is often the result."

He was aware of the irony of that statement.

As was Entreri. He had to snort. "Jarlaxle has a point. Regardless, we will be prepared. It is an advantage that he's obsessed enough to name the exact time of his arrival, although of course we will be on guard lest he lie after all."

Jarlaxle nodded. "His pattern is to tell the truth about when he chooses to strike, but he has evolved over time, so we must be ready for anything."

Lalani let out a low moan of fear. Vilok rushed from his seat to sit beside her and hold her in his arms.

Jarlaxle experienced an unpleasant pang of envy and looked away, controlling his facial muscles before a frown appeared. He chose to focus on Artemis instead and said, "Midnight is several hours from now. Will the long wait wear away your nerves?"

Entreri snorted again. "Not at all. Waiting is half the game." Vilok and Lalani's love seemed too sweet to be real, but he couldn't detect any false pretense. He hardly knew what to make of it, but he felt that witnessing it meant he needed no dessert.

"Perhaps we should retire to the safe room," Vilok said. He looked to his wife.

"I could not eat anyway," Lalani said. "I wish to lie down, my love. I feel faint at the mention of that monster."

Vilok kissed her hand and hoisted her into his arms, carrying her against his chest. "If you will please excuse me. I know it is rudeness to leave my honored guests, but I must tend to my wife."

"Of course," Jarlaxle murmured. He felt a mix of jealousy, irritation, and frustration roiling in his chest. _What is this feeling they display? Is this 'love'?_ His lack of understanding vexxed him.

It seemed a huge risk to fake such vulnerable and irrational feelings, but he couldn't fit their behavior into a model he had experienced.

_Are these people real?_ Entreri swallowed a second sigh. "Indeed," he said, agreeing with Jarlaxle. Then he turned back to his food, determined to finish his meal. He'd need the energy for the upcoming fight, no doubt.


	4. Chapter 3

From _Servant of the Shard_:

"It is undeniably beautiful, do you not agree?" Jarlaxle asked, looking back at the soaring cathedral, with its tall spires, flying buttresses, and great, colored windows.

"The mask of a god," Entreri replied sourly.

"The mask or the face?" asked the always-surprising Jarlaxle.

Entreri stared hard at his companion, and back at the towering cathedral. "The mask," he said, "or perhaps the illusion, concocted by those who seek to elevate themselves above all others and have not the skills to do so."

Jarlaxle looked at him curiously.

"A man inferior with the blade or with his thoughts can still so elevate himself," Entreri explained curtly, "if he can impart the belief that some god or other speaks through him. It is the greatest deception in all the world, and one embraced by kings and lords, while minor lying thieves on the streets of Calimport and other cities lose their tongues for so attempting to coax the purses of others."

That struck Jarlaxle as the most poignant and revealing insight he had yet pried from the mouth of the elusive Artemis Entreri, a great clue as to who this man truly was.

(p. 300 hardback edition)

* * *

**Chapter 3**

Philosophical Discussions

* * *

Jarlaxle and Artemis had recommended stationing the guards in the palace in their normal places. Forming a barrier of sheer meat would do no one any good. Though they did not care about any of the guards personally, it was preferrable to limit the loss of life and expense to the client.

Thus they found themselves standing guard outside the safe room by themselves, with Servantis' personal guarantee that it would be five and a half hours until Illiosene showed up.

Vilok and Lalani were quiet inside the room. The room had been made up as a bedroom, with furnishings approved by Artemis so that if warfare broke out inside the room, they would know what to expect. However, that raised the possibility that Lalani was being comforted by means familiar to a husband and wife.

Jarlaxle was curious, but he wasn't certain if he wanted to know.

Entreri didn't care what they did, but the concept that they might have sex in such a situation was rather nauseating. Fortunately he'd developed selective hearing while living in the guild houses.

Jarlaxle caught his partner's expression and smiled. "I can't hear anything."

"You'd know first," Entreri said, smirking. "I suspect your superior hearing is a curse at times."

Jarlaxle chuckled. "You assume I would be turned off," he teased. "How can you know what my fetishes are?"

Entreri rolled his eyes. "Am I to suppose then that sounds most consider obscene are pleasureable to your ears? Imagining what those sounds entail?" But he knew Jarlaxle was teasing. As for himself, he'd grown up listening to those sounds under a very different context and did his best as an adult to simply not hear them.

Jarlaxle chuckled again, and his grin widened. "Such would not be unusual for a drow." His grin faded to a serious expression. "But, as a matter of fact, no. Though it was an assumption, you were nonetheless correct to imply I would rather not overhear carnal relations between two or more people. If Amra's wife requires physical comforting, I would rather not hear about it."

He frowned. "Our client and his wife are strange, aren't they? I suppose you find it as incomprehensible as I that a male and a female would make themselves purposely vulnerable to each other?"

"Sounds like suicide to me," Entreri said flatly. "They are quite strange, like the fairytales mothers tell their children. I've been trying to decide if they're even real."

"They have no reason to pretend," Jarlaxle asserted, although the thought had crossed his mind. He presented Artemis with the same difficulty he encountered when attempting to assess Vilok and Lalani Amra. "What would we care? They surely know your reputation. As well, I have a racial reputation to overcome. We are the most heartless audience imaginable."

"Which is the only reason I do not think they pretend," Entreri said. "Even still, they strike me as surreal."

Jarlaxle nodded morosely. He preferred to think of himself as open-minded. Even he could not stretch his mind wide enough to take in Swami Amra's behavior towards his wife, and her response.

Sensing an end to the conversation, Jarlaxle sought to prolong it. "What is a faerie tale?"

Entreri paused a moment, having not expected the question, then realized that no such thing likely existed for drow. "Fairytales are old stories, sometimes even ancient stories, that have been passed down orally and finally written down. Each story has a moral to it, some clear message about life. Sometimes the stories are very dark, but sometimes they have unrealistically happy endings. I think they were originally intended for everyone, but anymore they're just told to children. A certain kind of fairytale is all about princesses and princes falling in love and living happily ever after. Those are the unrealistic ones. I heard several as a child, but as an adult, I think the dark ones are smarter."

Jarlaxle raised his eyebrows. "I have heard many such tales in my lifetime, and all dark, I would say. Certainly I can remember at least half a dozen told to me as a child, meant to instill the drow way of life. I couldn't call it a 'moral', by human terms. By human standards it is merely a rule or a duty."

Entreri nodded. That was believeable, considering. "Some of the basic ones I heard as a child could be boiled down to 'don't trust strangers' and 'beware your stepmother; she will get rid of you for the sake of her own children.' Others were 'the grass is not greener on the other side' or 'don't lie because eventually no one will believe you.' But still there were the romantic ones where all the woman's problems were solved because some man rescued her and loved her." He smirked. "Nothing for the man there, though. Just 'you have to rescue pretty women.'"

Jarlaxle snorted with laughter. "How one-dimensional that is! I suppose in a way drow culture and human culture are the same: males are workhorses meant for the benefit of females. Male dedication is not voluntary. It is required. In both cases, females are at the top, and men serve them." He shook his head. "Perhaps there is no such thing as a male dominated society. After all, Lalani is not strong like a Matron Mother, and yet her male takes care of her just as if she were ready with a whip if he did not."

Entreri had to snort. "I have seen male-dominated societies. Think more in terms of who has political power, who can own property, and who can inherit property. Also, who can make money and how." He paused, struck by a thought. "I suppose both the domination of males and females in various societies always comes down to three basic concepts: property ownership and inheritance, the accumulation and holding of wealth, and religion. Even the fairytale about the evil stepmother is about such things: she wants her own son to inherit her husband's land and wealth, not the son from the previous marriage."

Jarlaxle nodded slowly. "Matron Mothers also wish to groom their own children to hold the most power. However, I understand that power may not be split evenly. Mothers and wives in human culture seem to hold power over males in their household at times. Human religion is full of goddesses as well as gods."

He ventured, "I am given to understand that the strongest male position in general is to be unwedded."

Entreri had never stopped to think about it. He would never marry, and he didn't consider the marriage between his stepfather and mother to be anything but a farce. The pashas had harems, which were a whole different concept. "Certainly in the sense you're not responsible for anyone but yourself. Your opinions are your own, your time is your own, and your energy is your own. Your wealth is yours alone. I would call that freedom instead of power, though. Certainly I have met men who were absolute dictators over their families."

"You have no interest in that kind of power," Jarlaxle deduced.

Entreri shook his head. "What great accomplishment is it to reign like a tyrant over your spouse and children? Any adult may throw his - or her, in your culture - weight around with a child and subjugate it. That proves nothing. If anything, it proves weakness. At the very most, it reveals baseness. No respect can be granted to such a person, nor do they have any real social power." He stopped to consider the ramifications. "Unless you count the explosion of whatever said child could have been but might not be, especially if the child is beaten to death."

He got the feeling he might be talking too much and wondered how it was that Jarlaxle got him on these subjects.

Jarlaxle nodded. "I agree. I certainly have no intention of starting a family. Bregan D'aerthe is a business. If I have personal relations with anyone, it is because I wish to share mutual pleasure, not assert my dominance, or allow them to assert dominance over me. In part, Bregan D'aerthe was founded as a way to limit Menzoberranzan's wastefulness. Many of its members are children whose Houses lost their war."

Realizing that may be a foreign concept, Jarlaxle explained, "In Menzoberranzan, Houses fight each other for political power. This is culminated in a House war. The losing family is executed."

He grinned and waggled a finger. "Except when I or another agent of Bregan D'aerthe is present. One of my tactics has long been to spare the children of losing families. Your hated rival Kimmuriel is one such child of war."

Begrudgingly, Entreri felt his opinion of Jarlaxle raise up a notch, although he wasn't quite sure why. Certainly he did not see himself as compassionate toward children. At the same time, Jarlaxle seemed to have the right idea. Somehow. "Certainly it would be a ridiculous waste of talent to let entire families be killed off. Although I hate him, Kimmuriel is a rarity."

Jarlaxle nodded and spread his hands. "Exactly." He crossed his arms. "Why should I participate in the waste of resources? Kimmuriel is talented, intelligent, and a budding leader. If he could get over his anti-social tendencies, he could become a great leader. Thus are Bregan D'aerthe's members all skilled in their areas of expertise. Some of them are even good conversationalists."

He shook his head. "I admit that if there were something to salvage of Illiosene, I would make the effort. In the beginning I was tempted. However, the information my agents gathered is conclusive. There is no saving that one."

Entreri quirked an eyebrow. "Clearly you thought there was something to save in me." Although he wasn't sure he appreciated the effort, given what had actually been done to him.

Jarlaxle tilted his head. "Are you still in doubt? I should think why I saved you would be obvious by now."

"I have no doubt over my own worth," Entreri pointed out. "Nor did I prior to meeting you." _It was only the part in between where you dragged me down into hell._ "As for your reasons, they would seem to straightforwardly be to expand your underground empire to the surface through the use of a partner on the Surface." He smirked. "Mutal profit, as you say."

Jarlaxle hesitated, taken aback by how incomplete that explanation seemed to him. "Well...that was part of it. But you seem to underestimate your personal worth. I do not mean as a tool, your skill as a warrior. I mean that your personal voice must be heard. I have not tried to increase your understanding of your worth as a warrior; I am aware that you know that."

"I would not have chosen any partner. It was you or no one." Those words triggered a recollection. Jarlaxle snorted. "Kimmuriel was quite exasperated. He, of course, had no intention of seeing you ever again. When I insisted that the human partner must be you, he sulked for days."

Entreri snorted. "I imagine. I wasn't particularly thrilled to see him, either." He paused to consider Jarlaxle's claim. "My personal voice?" It was a strange concept to consider. He'd gained enough power in House Basadoni to make his opinions heard. However, unless he had something he wanted attended to, he spoke very little. "And how would you have my voice be heard?"

Jarlaxle grinned. "Where we are now is a good example of how I would have your voice be heard. This is a job garnered by you, accepted by you, and largely guided by you." The grin and the glib answer covered up the fact that he couldn't explain exactly what he meant, which flustered him.

He knew that he valued the discussions they had now, since Entreri had rescued him from Crenshinibon's treachery.

He also knew Entreri would not believe that.

Entreri shrugged. "It is not such a rare thing in my life. Granted, I had to climb my way up just like everyone else, but my career was fine until I was sent on the long-range mission to find and return Regis and that ruby." He had been in his late twenties and at the top of his game, and with that one assignment everything had gone to hell. Entreri wished he'd never met Drizzt Do'Urden, and he was glad the ranger was dead now.

"Vilok Amra likely knows more of that career than I do," Jarlaxle said.

The Artemis Entreri he had met had seemed desperate, trapped, and confused.

"Very likely so," Entreri said. "It would have been interesting to have met you prior to that mission." He wondered sometimes why he'd become so obsessed, but in the end he recognized that all intelligent, ambitious people had quirks, and one of those quirks was often obsession and/or compulsion.

"I agree," Jarlaxle said, nodding. He was curious to know whether or not Entreri would divulge anything.

However, Entreri grew silent, pondering the way Drizzt had seemed to slam into his life like two ships colliding at sea. Drizzt had held his ideals as morally superior, touting the goodness of loyalty and friendship, all for a common thief who had stolen a magical artifact. It seemed no great moral cause to Entreri. Perhaps that was what had initially irritated him so. However, in the end, Entreri had believed that one's worldview was tied to one's strength and perfection as a warrior - and more specifically as a swordsman. That, he now realized, was where the errror lay. Clearly hypocritical buffoons could be just as talented, which was disgusting but true. Menzoberranzan had thousands of such creatures.

Jarlaxle, in turn, imagined what would have happened had Entreri met him before the fall of House Do'Urden. That was a short span of time, especially for a drow. It seemed easy to make the leap from the present to that past. If he had not been distracted, worried about the fate of Zaknafein's children - and the idea of a war with the surface - he would have handled things very differently. Of course he would have; that was a given.

But would he have handled events any better?

He sighed. "Admittedly, you did not meet me at my best. Perhaps I could have come up with a solution that involved less pain for you if my mind had been clear of distractions. Fearing my own death - on the surface, no less - I fled, and seeing that you needed drastic intervention to live, I merely took you with me. That was the initial mistake that cascaded into needing leverage over Drizzt Do'Urden and his companions in order to free you of the trap I had sprung."

It was strange to hear Jarlaxle apologize, such as it was. Also, Entreri wasn't sure how he felt about the apology, given what had happened. Not only had he been in place where he was no one and nothing, but also he had been surrounded by hordes of spiders. Spiders he wasn't allowed to kill, on top of it. Still, he had an easy answer. "Never mention Do'Urden's name again in my presence, and I shall not consider it further." That was as gracious as he'd likely ever been in his life, considering the mere mention of that time made his stomach knot up with disgust.

Jarlaxle grinned in ill-concealed relief and nodded. "Done." He hadn't been certain of mentioning anything, since the topic pointedly never came up. But he had voiced his regret, and Entreri had not killed him, so all was well. He had never considered it wise to admit wrongdoing, being drow, but he came out of this discussion alive. A clear victory.


	5. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Midnight Battle

* * *

Hours passed. Jarlaxle noted with interest that it was approaching midnight. He had taken the precaution of lighting the hallway brightly; he was used to bright lights and would not be bothered, and he didn't want to give Servantis Illiosene the opportunity to show how much like a drow a Crinti was.

Presently, at exactly midnight by Jarlaxle's reckoning, a dark figure materialized at the end of the hall, just beyond the field of fiery brightness. The slim figure was clearly elfin, clad head to foot in form fitting black, with a cape. There was little doubt who it was, but the form had an odd, shadowy quality. Its eyes stood out almost orange against that silhouette-like darkness.

Jarlaxle didn't want to move hastily, but he was ready, muscles coiled.

The figure took a step forward, into the blazing light of the many oil lamps, and the darkness peeled away. He was Illiosene, alright. Pale gray-grown skin, silvery hair, about Entreri's height. The Crinti assassin was thin, and Jarlaxle noted pointed ears. He'd heard that Crinti who looked like elves were rare; most of them had the appearance of half elves or humans.

Illiosene looked calmly around the hallway, taking it all in with equal interest and Artemis and Jarlaxle with it. "You light lamps in order to stave away the shadows." His voice was deeper and huskier than Jarlaxle's, but musical.

_Calm and cool, this one,_ Entreri thought. "Perhaps we wish to see your face, Illiosene," he said simply.

Illiosene raised an eyebrow and leaned back, the gesture of a youth receiving a challenge, his chin raised. He rested his hands on the tops of the swords hanging at his hips, one on either side. The hilts were painted matte black. "See? My face?"

"Perhaps we had a little professional curiosity," Jarlaxle said lightly.

Illiosene's gaze snapped to Jarlaxle, so intense that Jarlaxle thought perhaps he'd enraged the Crinti. After a few more moments, however, Jarlaxle realized he was simply being studied.

"You speak Common, drow." Illiosene continued to stare at him.

Jarlaxle shrugged and gave the young assassin a grin, showing his teeth in an expression of cursory friendliness. The grin meant nothing. But it was a way to show Illiosene further peculiarities. "So do you."

Illiosene examined the hallway again, keeping Jarlaxle in his peripheral vision. Finally, his gaze drifted back to the start point, dissecting Jarlaxle from afar. "You are not harmed by the lights, are you?"

Jarlaxle trusted that to be rhetorical. All this talking made him tense. They were giving Illiosene time to size them up, but it couldn't be helped. They needed time to measure the Crinti as well.

Entreri valued people's tendency to underestimate him, and he applied that same value to Jarlaxle. He left the rhetorical question hanging. He took the time to measure Illiosene's stance and bearing, as well as his body language, tone of voice, and facial expressions. Everything added up to the assassin he'd been expecting. He wouldn't be particularly surprised if fighting the Crinti was like fighting Drizzt. Well, perhaps without the same frustatration factor.

"You are in my way," Illiosene said, breaking the silence. His tone was deceptively friendly. At last, he took a step forward, physically declaring his intention to invade their space.

Jarlaxle feigned surprise. "In your way? What purpose brings you through a hallway ending in a door?"

"Lalani," Illiosene said flatly.

"Oh." Jarlaxle maintained his grin. "You must be Servantis Illiosene."

"You knew that," Illiosene said.

"I could not," Jarlaxle said. "You did not introduce yourself." His usual pre-battle tactics: be as annoying as possible and see if his enemy lost composure.

"You were waiting for me," Illiosene said.

"But alas, I could not know that you were you, without the benefit of an introduction," Jarlaxle said.

Illiosene looked faintly annoyed and surprised.

Entreri could have sympathized with Illiosene if he had cared to. Jarlaxle had a special corner on the market as it concerned annoyance factors. "True," he chimed in. "Come to think of it, assumptions are dangerous."

"Indeed," Jarlaxle said, glancing at Artemis. "I suggest that we introduce ourselves now. Why waste more time?"

"I will need to know your names to sacrifice you to Loviatar," Illiosene agreed in a low growl.

_I seem to have successfully pissed him off._ Jarlaxle bowed deeply, sweeping off his hat. From this position, he had access to any number of magical diversions inside his hat, three wands on his belt, and the throwing daggers he could dispense from his bracers. "My name is Jarlaxle Bregan. This is my infinitely more successful associate, Artemis Entreri."

Jarlaxle straightened. He replaced his hat upon his head. "What might your name be?"

Illiosene narrowed his eyes. "You stall."

Jarlaxle gave him a chastising look. "Such manners."

Entreri would let Charon's Claw eat him before he would let himself be sacrificed to any god or goddess. He was also tired of stalling and charged, whipping out his sword and dagger and decending upon Illiosene at his top speed in a flurry of strikes.

Illiosene blocked the first strike in a straightforwardly drow move, whipping out his blades and bracing them against each other in an 'x'. He wasn't distracted by Artemis' dagger, and after clearing the second strike by a hair's width, he gave as good as he got, holding Entreri to a standstill.

Jarlaxle almost burst out laughing. _When I said you may attack at any time, I didn't mean you, Artemis!_ But it was so much more fun this way. He leapt into the battle himself, drawing his short swords and elongating them into long swords.

When he entered the fray, Illiosene almost buckled under the initial combined attack, unprepared for two swordsmen working together. However, instinct burst out. After a flurry of shining steel, Illiosene evaded them by jumping back and running backwards along the wall.

He instantly retaliated with half a dozen throwing knives.

Jarlaxle deflected one off of a longsword and charged. _Now it's my turn!_ He laughed.

Entreri let Jarlaxle take the lead, smacking away daggers as the flew toward him. He'd certainly gotten a lot of practice deflecting daggers while sparring with Jarlaxle.

Jarlaxle teased several drow moves out of Illiosene, confirming that the Crinti had been trained in drow weapons handling. When he performed a standard drow move, Illiosene gave him the correct block or parry. He found himself laughing again.

With a mischievous grin, he broke drow tradition and altered his rhythm to match Artemis'.

Illiosene started sweating. The unwilling realization that he was not in control of the battle worked its way onto his face.

_This is where it gets dangerous,_ Jarlaxle thought.

Entreri also grew more wary. They were beating Illiosene down, but the Crinti was listed as having a wide array of weapons at his disposal. He would likely shift tactics soon.

Illiosene's eyes dilated in a burst of fear and adrenaline, and his blocks and parries incereased in speed. Metal against metal rang out so quickly it was almost a continuous noise. Then he let one of his sweeping strikes go wild, flinging the sword out of his hand.

Jarlaxle was too close to get out of the way of the wild blade and hissed as the sharp edge dealt him a nick on his upper arm. The Crinti's blade clattered off the wall.

Without pause Illioscene drew a hand axe from his belt and flicked his wrist. The handle of the axe lengthened. He dropped and kicked his other sword across the hallway, seemingly to get it out of the way.

A longer, heavier weapon changed the game. There was too much energy in Illioscene's whirling chops to counter with a sword. Jarlaxle had to anyway to get to safety, and the result almost numbed his arm.

Entreri tried to edge in, but Illiosene moved with almost magical speed for such a heavy weapon. Entreri suspected Illiosene's strength or speed had been enhanced with an item of some sort, and his bet on was strength given their fight up to this point. Although he managed to chip the wooden handle, Entreri couldn't get any closer.

Jarlaxle sheathed his swords and threw daggers, but was dismayed to see Illiosene deflect them using the handle of the axe. _The axe is enchanted, Or Illiosene is. He's moving impossibly quickly_.

He quickly ran through his options.

The next time Entreri lunged in close, he shot his ice wand from his hip without taking it out of the sheath on his belt. He managed a direct hit to the axe blade. Blue ice grew around the axe head with a crackle, forming in the span of a second.

Entreri immediately took action, meeting the axe blade with all his strength. Magical blade met iced blade, and the head of the axe went flying. Entreri dived in with his dagger in the next second, although Illiosene managed to block with the handle.

Illiosene lashed out with a booted foot, scoring a glancing blow on Entreri's calf with a grunt.

_We've got him now!_ Jarlaxle prepared to spring back into the battle, but he was stopped by a wave of wooziness. His skin flashed hot suddenly, and he tasted metal.

Illiosene lashed out, again reacting with desperation. He used the axe handle as a staff. The wood chipped every time Charon's Claw struck out, but the handle was clearly enchanted and wouldn't be easily disposed of.

Jarlaxle gathered himself and charged back in, whipping out his longswords again. _I've probably been poisoned. We need to end this now_. Judging by the burning, he'd been exposed to a common drow poison used in torture chambers. It didn't kill; its purpose was to leave the victim in writhing pain.

Entreri was too busy hacking away at Illiosene's makeshift staff to notice Jarlaxle's pause. He focused on keeping Illiosene tied up in defending against him so that Jarlaxle would have a clear path to make a kill.

Jarlaxle slashed out with both blades.

Illiosene tried to counter Charon's Claw and Jarlaxle's long swords at the same time. A confused moment brought on by fatigue. Just that split second blunder was enough. Jarlaxle's blades carved up Illiosene's chest.

A split second later, Charon's Claw plunged past the falling axe handle and into Illiosene's stomach.

Entreri yanked the blade back out since he had no desire to watch the demon within it eat Illiosene's body and soul. Illiosene could go face his insane goddess - and keep his skin on his head. As soon as the blades were disengaged, Illiosene's body fell to the floor with a heavy thud. Blood splattered the wall and floor. "And so ends that," Entreri muttered. It would've been more of a challenge without Jarlaxle there, but Entreri was alive, which was all that mattered in the end.

Jarlaxle wiped his blades off on Illiosene's cape, which had slipped out from behind the body to drape artfully on the floor. His whole body was burning, including his tongue. He shrank his long swords back into short swords and sheathed them. With a swift motion, he jerked the antidote out of his belt pouch and drank it. Then he straightened and gave Artemis a grin. "I expected more of a battle. Didn't you? A shame." He couldn't get the word 'shame' out straight.

Before he could react to the mortifying slur in his voice, he found himself on the floor. He heard the thump and felt the numbness in his legs like an aftershock.

Jarlaxle realized his miscalculation immediately. _Burning plus paralyzing? Wolfsbane!_ He reached for the antidote in his belt pouch, but he was shaking too much to get his fingers to work. Wolfsbane was often used in the North for killing off packs of wolves. He was in real danger.

Entreri was stunned by Jarlaxle's sudden collapse and sheathed his sword and dagger. He knelt by Jarlaxle. "What?" His mind replayed the battle quickly, and he remembered Jarlaxle had been cut by Illiosene's blade. _It's poison, then. _

Jarlaxle tried to speak around his clenching jaw and numb tongue. "Pink," he slurred. The antidote was pink. He had several different antidotes in his belt pouch. "Wolfsbane." Jarlaxle frightened himself with the moaning growl of his voice. He felt wetness and realized he was drooling uncontrollably in addition to shaking.

Entreri interpreted both the move and the two hints and realized Jarlaxle meant there was a pink antidote to wolfsbane on his belt. The sight of Jarlaxle drooling and shaking was somehow inherently disturbing, although he didn't stop to analyze why. He examined Jarlaxle's belt and pulled out of small tube of pink liquid.

Jarlaxle followed Entreri's hand with his eyes. Somehow, irrationally, the sight of Entreri lifting out the antidote from his belt terrified him. Even if he weren't shaking from the poison, he would be shaking from the sudden spike of panic. _He has to give me the antidote. He will._

What if Entreri didn't? He was vulnerable. His own fault. Drow died this way. People died when they relied on their allies to help them. _Everyone is always waiting for their opportunity. No one is too useful to die. Artemis can do everything on his own. He has his own reputation, his own fame, his own skills. He hardly needed me for this battle!_

Entreri didn't care about the gold, it was true, but he did care about past grievances. What if bringing up the past was a mistake? What if Artemis had decided he wanted revenge for the humiliation in Menzoberranzan? Now would be the perfect time.

Jarlaxle's chest tightened until it hurt. _Our rapport could be feigned. He could find me intolerable and act otherwise. Until he got his chance._

His panic boiled down to one icy thought: _Why didn't I just dodge Illiosene's blade?_

Entreri slipped his arm under Jarlaxle's shoulders, propping him up and holding him against his shoulder. He uncorked the antidote with his teeth and then very carefully fed it to Jarlaxle, making sure none escaped. Jarlaxle was clearly growing numb, so Entreri essentially had to pour it down his throat. He set the vial on the floor, along with the cork, and then simply waited, giving the antidote time to work. Or so he hoped.

Jarlaxle swallowed the antidote, tasting mint and feeling the coolness caused by the ingredients. He gasped and shuddered. Even if he could move he would be frozen in shock. Artemis was so gentle. His eyes ached, and the painful tightness in his chest didn't decrease.

This moment seemed frozen in time. He was so comfortable propped against Artemis. Comfortable. That realization triggered off a more important one: the antidote was working. His body no longer trembled, and he'd stopped burning. In another few moments, he might be able to speak normally.

Relief fought with betrayal. He'd betrayed himself with those thoughts. Panic was no excuse. He had come to know Artemis Entreri, had he not? He knew that Artemis would not betray him. To become cowardly at the last moment was foolish.

And of course he was indispensible.

His conduct with Crenshinibon had been worse and longer lasting, and Artemis had not gotten rid of him then. Why should he have worried now? Because he considered this predicament his fault, and the trouble with the crystal shard uncontrollable?

Jarlaxle took deep breaths and assured himself he was alright. "Thank you, Artemis." He hesitated, and then scraped to his feet. "Well." He adjusted his hat. It had gotten jarred at an angle when he fell, and then pushed further askew when Artemis helped him. "That was unnecessarily dramatic." He grinned brightly. "I should take the antidote ten seconds earlier next time if I wish to avoid that. Not that I plan on being poisoned with wolfsbane again, but one must always review the possibilities." There was no need to tell Artemis of his actual miscalculation.

Entreri snorted and stood as well. "Your recovery is perhaps more dramatic, but that is you, is it not? Ever the one to bounce back." He smirked. "Although I do suggest taking the antidote ten seconds earlier. Should I not be around or be otherwise delayed, you'd have a hell of a time with it."

Jarlaxle laughed.

When all the laughter was out of his system - say, about five minutes - he took stock of the situation. "Servantis Illiosene will have no dramatic recovery, it seems." He gave a pleased sigh. "I believe that is 100,000 gold's worth of work. If only all jobs could hold up to that standard."

Then he rubbed his side. "And the worst net injury of the night is a stitch from uncontrollable mirth."

Entreri shook his head. "If that is all, we've done well. Let us collect our gold and go home." The use of the word 'home' in that sentence felt strange to him, but so it was.

Jarlaxle grinned at him. "Indeed." Then the drow mercenary strolled up to the door of the safe room and rapped out a cheery rhythm.

The door opened. Vilok Amra was dressed and wearing his turban, admirably not mussed from being in bed. But of course, that was conjecture.

Jarlaxle bowed. "We have eliminated the assassin. You may see for yourself."

From somewhere within the room, Lalani gasped. "My love, is it true?"

"I shall see," Vilok said. He exited the room. "Stay here, my sweet flower. This is not a sight for your eyes."

Jarlaxle directed their client to Illiosene's corpse.

One glance was enough. Vilok turned his attention to Artemis and Jarlaxle. "I owe you 100,000 gold, and my gratitude." He bowed.

"Entreri will doubtless take the gold, and I the gratitude," Jarlaxle quipped. "To each their own preferred reward."

Entreri gave a small, fake smile. He'd take the gold and much less of Vilok's nauseating pet names for his wife. "Jarlaxle speaks truly." He paused. "After you are rested and recovered, perhaps we may discuss handling the source of your problem."

Vilok nodded. "Allow me to take you to my treasury. I would not have you leave this night without rightful payment."

Jarlaxle beamed. _Treasury. What a wonderful word._

_And may we see more of your treasury in the future, _Entreri thought, following Vilok down the hall. Certainly this was the easiest 100,000 gold he'd ever made.

Vilok led them downstairs, through various hallways and past guards appropriately stationed. The treasury was a large room filled with gold. Gold bars, golden goblets and necklaces, various chests running from small to large, and bags of gold pieces. The swami stopped in front of the pile of bags and turned to face them. "I allow you to see this because I wish you to understand. I have the resources to appropriately repay you for eliminating my enemies."

"I'm glad I have a bottomless hat," Jarlaxle said brightly.

_May you have many enemies,_ Entreri thought, but since that was a curse among assassins, he wasn't about to say it. "Quite impressive. We certainly shall not worry about partnering with you." The extent to which Entreri could ever be said to feel joy was contained in his use of the word 'partner.' The P-word did not often leave his mouth via any means other than sarcasm.

"Indeed," Jarlaxle said.

Vilok merely bowed. "Wealth is of limited use if one is dead. Therefore, I find it pragmatic to trade wealth for life."

"Hear, hear." Now that pleasantries were exchanged, Jarlaxle took off his hat and held it upside down. "I was not joking about my hat. I doubt either Entreri or I could carry 100,000 gold without the aid of my magic hat."

"I agree," Entreri said. Fortunately, with Jarlaxle, most things were possible. Entreri had the blasphemous thought that Jarlaxle could die and ascend to the god of mercenaries or some such. He certainly did his best to try to be omnipresent and omnipotent - and to certain extent even omniscient - using his mortal resources.

Jarlaxle showed Vilok that all that was necessary was to lower bags of gold into the hat. Once Vilok was sufficiently encouraged, he watched the shallow bottom of the hat swallow up his bag of gold without a trace. His eyes widened in astonishment.

It wasn't often Jarlaxle had an appreciative audience for his magical toys. He grinned broadly. "As you can see, magic. Like a bag of holding, of sorts."

"I see," Vilok agreed. He loaded the other bags of gold into Jarlaxle's hat and then said, "You must be an appreciator of magical wonders."

"I am." Jarlaxle nodded.

Vilok lapsed into silence, as if distracted by a thought. Then he bowed. "If it pleases you, you are welcome to return at any time of day or night. My guards will admit you and inform me of your presence."

Entreri was curious about this offer and wondered if it were connected to the previous topic or not. "Thank you," he said simply.

Jarlaxle attributed that statement to the 'gratitude' part of their payment. "Very kind of you. When should we return to discuss your underlying problem?"

"As I said, at any time." Vilok spread his hands in a peaceful gesture.

Jarlaxle glanced at Artemis. "Tomorrow, or rather after sunrise today, would seem to be appropriately expedient. We'd rather not undo our work by allowing your enemy to hire another top notch assassin."

"Indeed." Entreri bowed to Vilok. "We will see you in the morning." He swept out of the room, assuming Jarlaxle would follow. He wanted to have some sleep, after all. Gone were the days when he could function on four or less hours of sleep. Now he had to have six.

Jarlaxle did follow.


	6. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Fairytales

From_ The Silent Blade_:

"Pride again," Basadoni replied with a flourish of his skinny arms that stole much of his strength and left him gasping. "But the point," he continued a moment later, "in any case, is moot. What you truly ask is if I still care for you, and of course I do. I remember well your ascent through my guild, as well as any father recalls the growth of his son. I do not wish you ill in this war you have begun, though you understand there is little I can do to prevent these events that you and Kadran, prideful fools both, have put in order. And of course, as I said before, you cannot win."

"You do not understand everything."

* * *

In the morning, after a full six hours' rest, Jarlaxle and Artemis rose. Jarlaxle picked a cafe a block from their flat for breakfast and happily spread marmalade on a scone while Artemis eschewed sweetness in favor of steak. Jarlaxle took a big bite of scone and washed it down with coffee. "I love the diverse cuisine in this city."

He knew they were later than he'd meant to be; sunrise was two hours ago and they were only now eating breakfast. But Vilok had said 'any time', so Jarlaxle wasn't concerned.

Entreri was continually amazed at Jarlaxle's ability to take pleasure even in the smallest of things, although he also appreciated the ability to have steak every morning if he wished. "They cook good steaks," he agreed begrudgingly. He'd asked for medium rare, and he'd gotten it - perfectly juicy and tender.

Jarlaxle grinned. "I would not mind returning here. It is close, affordable, pleasant in atmosphere, and the food is expertly prepared."

As he allowed the scone to gently activate his mind, he reflected on the events of last night - or this morning, if one preferred. Although everything generally fell into place, perfect order was not achieved regarding their client. Jarlaxle preferred to understand his clients as thoroughly as possible.

Jarlaxle finished his scone and moved on to his yogurt parfait; thick, tangy, cultured milk layered with honey, toasted oats, and nuts. Such a dish would never have been conceived in Menzoberranzan. For one thing, there was no honey. For another, no oats or nuts. Of course, the real problem was that bitterness was preferred over sweetness in his homeland. That was why he ate sweets whenever he could: to remind himself he was not at home and likely would never be home again. It was a pleasant thought.

The back of his mind worked over Vilok and Lalani's behavior until he came up with a question. "Love entails the common interests of two people, does it not?"

Entreri stared at Jarlaxle for a moment. What did he know of love? It was not anything he'd been witness to.

Even as he thought that, however, his mind betrayed him. Pasha Basadoni had treated him more like a son. As a result, Entreri had complicated feelings for him and had chosen to mercy kill him in the end.

He looked away, but the answer formulated in his mind anyway. "I suppose. Common ground would have to shared. Common respect."

"Common respect," Jarlaxle repeated. He gestured with his spoon. "Would you respect Lalani Amra? I cannot fathom how a wealthy, reasonably intelligent man of average - let us say adequate - strength of mind and body could respect a female such as Lalani. I have been trying to appreciate Swami Amra's point of view for the sake of understanding whom we are dealing with, but she seems to have no purpose. Her status seems akin to a pet." He frowned. "What kind of female cannot stand the sight of blood and dead bodies?"

Much less submit to a familiar title of 'sweet flower', but that was beside the point.

Entreri's lips quirked up in a smile. Admittedly, he was amused at Jarlaxle's perception that all females would be flippant about blood and corpses. "In Calimshan, we would say 'what kind of male cannot stand the sight of blood and dead bodies.' But more to the point, in cultures such as these, women often do hold the status of beloved pet. Or, perhaps, mere property. To a pasha in Calimport, a beautiful woman's only value is her beauty, and he buys her for his harem the way you would buy a fine wine. Perhaps I should say that you shouldn't underestimate humans' ability to love their pets. Especially if said 'pets' put out good sex." He left the sheer wrongness of that sentence's double meaning intact. He would never commit beastiality, but he had known several men who had.

Jarlaxle furrowed his brow. "I understand that aspect of the relationship. Females hold similar positions in relation to males in drow culture. Not the beloved part - or I should say, very rarely - but the sexual relationship of master to pet. That doesn't bother me, and is irrelevent in my estimation of Vilok Amra's strangeness." He ate a bite of yogurt and continued. "What puzzles me is the interpersonal power-sharing. At dinner, Amra said that she should sleep. An implied order. She responded with no, I will not sleep. Amra meekly surrendered."

His frown deepened. He hated the sensation of not being intelligent enough to untangle the issue himself. "Why share power with someone weaker than you when you must assume power in almost every situation to protect that person? Amra spends his time protecting her, yet sharing. This is not a master-pet relationship."

He sighed. "And it is not property. One does not let property dictate what is to be done. Amra abandoned his dinner to see to the wishes of his wife, seemingly without the possibility of punishment on her part if he did not obey her."

Entreri sighed. "Humans sometimes love their pets to the points the pets become the masters. But it is possible that what you're witnessing is actual love." He stabbed the next bite of steak with more force that was strictly necessary. "They say that true love is sacrificial." Which was precisely why Entreri didn't believe love existed. Everyone put their own needs first; that was simply the way of the world. The concept was not one that caused him any angst since he was a practical man. But in the mouths of paladins, the topic could become infuriating. "If there is any truth to that at all, then Amra has sacrificed part of his power to his wife out of love." Although Entreri really couldn't imagine such a thing.

Jarlaxle was disheartened by this explanation. He couldn't immediately put his finger on why. "Power sacrifices are dangerous. How can one truly know the mind of another being? Perhaps Amra does not fear her because she is physically weak, but physical weakness is not a sufficient handicap for an intelligent person." He shook his head. "I understand putting trust, loyalty, and respect in an equal. To do so is only logical. Provided the relationship is amicable, the other person acts as a balance and an amplifier of one's power. But Amra has tied himself to someone unreliable."

He'd lost interest in his yogurt parfait.

With irritation, Jarlaxle attributed his loss of appetite to the word 'sacrifice'.

Entreri found he had to play devil's advocate. "But if love is truly involved, wouldn't the person trust that the shared powered wouldn't be abused? And wouldn't the beloved be loyal to that?" Not that he could comprehend such things. "And do we know that Lilani is unreliable? Certainly she's no warrior, but then again, Vilok isn't, either. We haven't seen what Lilani can or can't do because Vilok is so busy protecting her. As fearful as she seems, if she were in a real conflict, she might buck up. We can't know for sure that she would fold; all we know is that Vilok babies her."

Jarlaxle raised his eyebrows at this burst of emotion from the assassin, however muted. He found himself smiling. "You have an excellent point." A point impossible for a drow to think of, no matter how creative the dark elf. "A real bond of trust would overcome apprehensions. If that trust were shared..." His smile widened to a grin of delight at his flash of understanding. "The danger would be negligible." He dug into his yogurt, fascinated and cheered. "Every so often, two beings are capable of creating this balance, and that relationship of mutual trust is the source of those faerie tales you spoke of?"

Entreri took a moment to comprehend the point he had actually made. He felt his worldview creaking in his brain as he tried to imagine the reality of such a thing. Still, Jarlaxle's logic was sound. "Perhaps. The average fairytale ends prior to the marriage, however. The romantic fairytales end with 'the prince and princess married and lived happily ever after.' Thus my sarcastic crack a few weeks ago about what happens with happily ever after fails."

Jarlaxle frowned. He needed a moment to place that remark. Then he realized it was a comment relating to an impoverished man and wife with small children they had the dubious pleasure of interrogating. The man and wife clearly had no use for each other. They had argued on every answer. Jarlaxle had needed all of his self-control to keep his composure. Delicately prying information about a fleeing fugitive out of them proved one of the most difficult things Jarlaxle had ever done.

"Many people perhaps think they are happy at first," Jarlaxle allowed. Then he returned to the subject at hand. "But in the case of Vilok and Lalani, and others like them, if the faerie tale is about their love, then the story is not interesting anymore after their love is fully explained."

He gestured. "It makes sense as a storyteller to end the tale without recounting years of saccharine perfection."

Entreri wondered how in the nine hells he'd gotten into a literary debate with a drow. "If the fairytale explains their love, then I suppose so. Except, of course, that I find years of saccharine perfection unrealistic." He recalled that they were really analyzing their clients and reined himself in. "But for the sake of the argument, let us assume that Vilok and Lilani have true love and are living out those years of saccharine perfection." He paused. "So what?" Given his lack of inflection, he realized he should elaborate. "What fascinates Jarlaxle about this concept?"

Jarlaxle grinned. "At first, I was only securing increased safety by pursuing a more complete understanding of our clients. That interest morphed into an investigation of love and its ramifications as a result of your excellently deduced suppositions."

But it wasn't really fair to throw big words at Artemis without really explaining anything. Jarlaxle reined himself in. "My thoughts predominantly lie in a fanciful direction." He winked. "Not that Artemis Entreri is surprised." He sighed. "I find myself thinking what a comfort that must be: a mutual, complete trust paired with complete loyalty. One might go one's entire life guarding against enemies, but there would always be that person, the single person whom one loves and is loved by in return, that one could trust. That would relieve one's mind immensely. The relief would far outweigh the vigilance required to stay alive."

Jarlaxle gestured with both hands. "In short, life would become more comfortable."

That sounded like a fairytale indeed. Still, there had been a rare few people - halfings, actually - whom Entreri had trusted. Dwahvel more than Dondon, but they had been alike in the sense Entreri had been able to relax in their presence. No hypervigilance had been required. It hadn't been love, but Entreri had been careful to assure Dwahvel's safety when he'd had to face the drow coup. It was the basis upon which Entreri had finally decided he knew what a friend was. It was from his understanding of actually being able to relax and get tipsy while conversing openly with Dwahvel that Entreri finally replied. "I suppose it would."

xXx

Vilok greeted them at the front entrance of the palace as he said he would and led them to an outdoor seating area in his garden. Palms and long grasses shaded the table and chairs, and flamingoes nonchalantly walked through pools of water. Occasionally one of them would dip its long neck down and catch a fish swimming in the waters, apparently their source of food. Jarlaxle appreciated the garden's beauty while politely sipping half a glass of fresh lime juice and water. Artemis had his own small glass of sweet and tart lime beverage.

Lalani was in attendance at Vilok's side. Unlike everyone else, she was sitting on a beautifully embroidered pillow used to cushion the stone seat.

When they'd entered, Lalani had already been at the table, and she had served the drinks. She'd also murmured her thanks, which Artemis and Jarlaxle were forced to accept graciously.

"Due to the nature of this request, I will pay you and your associate 500,000 gold, to be collected from me in any manner you choose," Vilok said in a steady voice. His composure seemed greatly improved now that his wife was safe and he'd had a full night's sleep. "Be it gold, artifacts, or magical items."

Jarlaxle's interest was perked. _Magical items?_ He realized now their small conversation last night was not idle. Vilok had sized him up.

The swami took a leisurely sip of juice. "My request is that you travel to the Lapal League, to the city of Sheirtalar, to assassinate a man whose name is Sadavir Vakadi."

Jarlaxle's eyebrows rose. The Lapal League, a cluster of city-states also known by the name Lapaliiya, was south of Calimshan, down the coast of The Shining Sea. Sheirtalar, the second northern-most city state, was 500 miles away, and that was cutting a straight course. If they followed the trade roads, the distance would be greater.

Still, that was a short journey compared to traveling from Calimshan to Icewind Dale.

Jarlaxle glanced at Artemis with his best benign smile in place.

Entreri returned the glance. He had no problem with long-distance travel, and he certainly had no trouble with 500,000 gold. He turned back to Vilok. "I see. And what guarantee of this man's assassination would you prefer?"

Vilok reached out and squeezed his wife's hand. "We must be sure. Only by bringing the head of the man who has called for the death of my Lalani can we be certain the threat is gone."

Lalani bowed her head. "I wish to look upon his face and know that his lips move no more."

Bloodthirsty talk for a sweet flower. Jarlaxle felt suitably soothed.

Entreri decided the woman had some sense in her. "But of course. Very well. The head of Sadavir Vakadi for 500,000 gold or the equivalent thereof."

Jarlaxle grinned and nodded.

"Sadavir Vakadi is a swami and a devotee of Waukeen. He is incredibly wealthy. As well, if you see something you like from his palace, take it," Vilok said. He sipped his fruit juice. "Not as a means of payment. Rather, as a bonus. Vakadi has no wives and no children; he is obsessed with Lalani. He has slaughtered his family to gain his fortune. Should you fear retaliation, be at ease. There is no one to inherit his wealth."

Jarlaxle marveled at the amount of worldly riches involved in this job. He felt, blasphemously for a mercenary, that there had to be some drawback.

"The only thing I ask..." Vilok began.

_Aha,_ Jarlaxle thought. _Here we go_.

"...is that you dispose of Vakadi's body in the ocean," Vilok said.

Jarlaxle was puzzled and crestfallen that he had miscalculated the emergence of the catch.

Vilok said grimly, "That is where he vowed to place me. So let it be his grave."

Lalani squeezed his hand.

Entreri nodded. "A simple request. Poetic, really." Not that he was given to such things, but he was still on his best behavior. "It shall be done."

Vilok nodded solemnly. "Thank you."

"Is there any additional information we need to know before setting out?" Jarlaxle asked.

"The Temple of Waukeen is the most powerful faction of the city," Vilok said. "The merchants who belong to the temple's uppercrust, like Sadavir Vakadi, are afforded every courtesy. If you are exposed, you will not be seen as an avenger bringing justice, but rather a foul and cruel villain."

"We're used to that," Jarlaxle said lightly.

Vilok sipped his lime juice. "Sheirtalar is a city much like this one, or like Durpar or Calimshan. There is nothing that money cannot buy. There is nothing that is not for sale. Therefore I must warn you that Sadavir Vakadi's palace likely has defenses both military and arcane."

"Since he expects you to retaliate against his attempts to steal your wife from you," Jarlaxle said cheerfully. He was excited at the prospect of a job that required both his skill set and Entreri's.

"Indeed," Entreri murmured. It sounded like a nice challenge.

Vilok finished his juice. Lalani served him more and offered refills to Artemis and Jarlaxle.

Jarlaxle politely accepted, thinking it the wise thing to do. He was sure he'd heard that in Calimshan it was an insult to refuse food and drink, and he was almost a hundred percent certain Vilok was a Calishite.

Artemis accepted a refill as well, confirming Jarlaxle's memory.

"If you wish, you may use two of my finest horses for the journey," Vilok said. "They are Calishite horses, strong and black, as well as sleek and swift. They yearn to run and are trained not to fear battle."

"We cannot guarantee your horses would live through the experience," Jarlaxle said cautiously.

"Nor could I guarantee their safety if I embarked on a crusade to kill Vakadi myself."

Jarlaxle relaxed and nodded. "A wise point, Swami."

Entreri merely nodded. The journey could be done in three days at a reasonable pace, and he had no doubt that the horses were the finest one could buy or breed. Calimshan was known for breeding excellent horses.

"So we can be sure we bring back the right head, what does Sadavir Vakadi look like?" Jarlaxle asked.

Vilok's expression darkened, but he answered. "Like all of his kind, he is short and swarthy, a color like charcoal mixed with mud. His hair is similarly dark, glossy and straight, worn in a braid or a long ponytail. He is thin, like a child, and his face grows no beard." Vilok himself had a neatly trimmed mustache and beard.

Jarlaxle noted the healthy racism and held back a grin. This was just like being home. He'd noticed no short of discrimination in the world based on looks.

"Sounds like his appearance is not noteworthy," Entreri said. "But there are other ways to assure the identity of a mark."

"Yes," Vilok said. He glanced at Lalani.

Lalani spoke up. "When he tried to force himself on me, I noticed a birthmark like a heart. A little black heart with uneven edges, on his right arm near the armpit, on the underside of his arm."

Vilok wrapped his arms around her and held her. "She does not talk of this. I could not have mentioned this against her will."

Jarlaxle blinked.

Vilok evidently misunderstood his expression, or Artemis', or perhaps he was just defensive. "He touched her bare skin, yes. But I still love her."

Jarlaxle understood then that Lalani was wrapped up for some cultural reason other than ceremony.

Entreri merely nodded again. He found the rules about virginity to be ridiculous, and he certainly wasn't going to judge someone else's decision to marry a woman despite her being touched by a previous man. "Of course. Very well, a black heart near his armpit on his right arm." He wasn't sure he could easily see such a place unless the man wore sleeveless clothing and raised his arm. But he could check the corpse for it once the man was dead.

Jarlaxle entertained similar thoughts. "We may end up killing more than one person."

"You are entitled to kill everyone in that household," Vilok said.

Jarlaxle didn't think Artemis would care if they weren't. If their lives were in danger and they were pursuing a mark, they'd kill whoever got in their way.

"Entitled or not, we don't intend to fail," Entreri said bluntly. "But I take your meaning. Certainly we'll check the corpse for the mark to be sure." He realized he had formed an immediate judgment on the man and felt that Vilok and Lalani's desire for revenge was appropriate. This was certainly not some innocent they'd been asked to kill - on two separate counts now.

They wrapped up negotiations and agreed to depart the next morning.

Given they had recently come the way they needed to travel and discovered rampant banditry, it would be foolish to travel at night.

xXx

Jarlaxle stopped halfway home and picked out an adobe restaurant with a cool interior and windows expertly placed to allow for a refreshing cross breeze. The fare was slightly different from all the places they'd eaten so far. This restaurant offered lots of beef and chicken dishes drowned in flavorful, bright sauces, and vegetable and fruit hashes seasoned with chiles or with herbs.

For bread they were given floppy, flat rounds and crackers made of corn meal.

Thanks to how long civil negotiations took, it was lunchtime, and Jarlaxle was hungry.

By watching others, Jarlaxle learned to wrap all the things on his plate up in the floppy bread, making a package of it. He was delighted and amused. "This job does not lack for compensation," he commented after he'd halfway filled his stomach. "Also, I have come up with several initial strategies for handling things. Have you any ideas yourself, or do you prefer to scout out the situation first once we arrive?"

"I prefer to scout it out afer arrival, although I'm not adverse to discussing strategies." Entreri had opted for chicken and vegetables flavored with curry and tumeric. Also following others' lead, he'd wrapped his food up into the bread and was doing his best to eat it without creating a mess.

"Basic strategies that come to mind are to utilize the underground, find this man's other enemies, and make use of their resources within the city to breach the palace defenses; or to hire ourselves out to the mark as a ruse to gain his trust; or to impersonate merchants and arrange to enter into a deal with him, luring him out of the palace." Jarlaxle shrugged. "One or possibly none of those ideas have merit. We'll know once we reach Sheirtalar."

He ate a few bites of food and wagged an index finger. "Or we could wait for him to leave the palace and ambush him." He swallowed. "The possibilities without information are many and nonspecific."

"Indeed." Entreri basically considered all those in his bag of tricks. "A few days to size up the city and gather information will probably be required."

Jarlaxle nodded and finished his first wrap. He constructed a second. "This evening I will consult with Kimmuriel about the terrain ahead. If there are any major landmarks we need to be wary of, that information will be easy enough to come by."

He licked his fingers and then pulled out a map from his hat. He unrolled the canvas and gave their route a glance. "We'll be following the trade road that cuts south through the Shaar, and then west to Lapaliiya. That takes us by the Gnollwatch and through both the Dun Hills and the Misty Vale. I'll have my informants focus on those areas."

Entreri nodded. With Jarlaxle as a partner, there was little he had to do in this area now. He wasn't sure if he liked that or not, but he supposed as long as he still felt challenged and not bored, everything was fine.

Jarlaxle stowed his map and ate his second wrap. He was getting the hang of the folding and lifting now. He decided he liked it. _A handy food pouch. How inventive._

"I suppose we'll stock up on rations; there don't seem to be many places to stop in between here and Sheirtalar. It seems we'll have a place to rest for the night, but that's all. The Shaar is one great plain. The nearest city of any great size is Shaarmid."

Since they'd come north after arriving, they hadn't yet glimpsed the Shaar. Jarlaxle was looking forward to it.

Entreri nodded a second time. "Dried dead animal, stale crackers, and canteens. Got it."

Jarlaxle laughed.


	7. Chapter 6 Through The Pass

**Chapter 6**

Through The Pass

* * *

The next morning Artemis and Jarlaxle set out from the stable of Vilok Amra's palace. The dawn blazed overhead as they picked out two black Calishite stallions with Amra's guidance. They'd packed the previous night.

Artemis picked a stallion named Aazim. Jarlaxle thought Aazim was much like Artemis: proud and strong. The horse submitted calmly to Entreri's guidance, sensing as animals did the assassin's strength of character.

"What does Aazim mean?" Jarlaxle asked while Artemis secured his supplies to the horse's back.

"Aazim means 'determined'," Vilok said.

Jarlaxle smiled. "Ah."

He took his time choosing a steed, feeling out the different qualities of each one. A popular notion was that animals did not like drow unless they were evil themselves. Jarlaxle had not found that to be the case; however, he did find that horses had their own idea of what kind of master they would like. As in everything else he wanted to strike a deal.

A glossy black horse younger than Artemis' caught Jarlaxle's attention; this one readily accepted a lump of sugar as provided by Vilok and mouthed Jarlaxle's palm. That was a sign of friendly curiosity among horses.

Jarlaxle turned to their client. "This one."

Vilok bowed. "His name is Naim." Without being asked, the swami added, "That means 'comfort and tranquility'."

Jarlaxle grinned. "Then this is assuredly the right steed for me."

After exchanging final pleasantries, they left. The horses maintained a walk through the city, and then picked up the pace once they were on the Golden Road, the trade road they would follow all the way to Sheirtalar.

Even though Entreri wasn't an all-around chatty person, he was less chatty in the morning, given he wasn't a morning person. His career had long been a night one, and he was at his best in the late evening and early morning hours. Therefore, being up early left him slowly stirring his own thoughts. He was immune to the beautiful morning around him, although he did appreciate his ride. Good horses were faintly pleasing to him.

Jarlaxle, meanwhile, chattered about everyone and everything, without caring that Artemis didn't respond. "The pass through the Firesteap Mountains should be protected by patrols, but we shouldn't assume that the passage will be entirely safe. Hobgoblins and ogres camp in the foothills. It was sheer luck we avoided them during our initial descent."

He added cheerfully, "For that matter, there might be gnolls. Gnolls are common to this area of the world in general, and the trade road tempts them."

Jarlaxle wasn't afraid of encountering gnolls. They were hyena-like and cowardly; under normal circumstances gnolls would never dream of attacking a drow. Now that Crenshinibon wasn't around to mess things up, he figured they wouldn't be bothered by riffraff.

"Just as long as we don't have to deal with green slime and priests," Entreri quipped, abruptly breaking his silence. "Although I'll take the green slime over the priests."

Jarlaxle laughed. "I would as well. Though I know it's bad form to discriminate against a group of people due to personal grievances, you can well imagine I have enough past experiences to make a non-partisan attitude difficult to achieve."

Entreri nodded. "I maintain priests are the lowest lifeform. Or priestesses, in your case."

Jarlaxle slid Entreri a wry smile. "Drow priests are just as bad. Rai-guy is - was - a prime example. I admit that I furthered the lifespan of a creature I detest in order to reap the benefits of healing magic." He added lightly, "Now, thanks to the acquisition of the healing orb, I no longer feel beholden to priestly magic. I would have gotten rid of Rai-Guy eventually. Something 'accidental', but effective."

"Understandable," Entreri said. "Although you may have also cost Kimmuriel his lover." It was just a theory of his, but he threw it out there anyway. "Not that Kimmuriel seemed broken up about it." Which was simply drow.

Jarlaxle snorted with laughter. "I do not think that Kimmuriel and Rai-Guy were lovers, or even occasional playmates. Kimmuriel is too much of a cold fish, as the human expression goes. The only part of himself he views as important is his mind. My theory is that touches to his body would repulse him." He grinned and conceded, "But you could be right. Males often lie with males, and females with females, in drow culture. Our society is already fractured along gender lines, so most find it safer to dally with another of the same gender."

Entreri wasn't particuarly surprised to hear that. If he were a drow male, he wouldn't let a female anywhere near him, given the choice. Also, although he'd only ever seen Jarlaxle with women, he could imagine that Jarlaxle would not be averse to the experience or experimentaion of being with a male. "I imagine so. I wouldn't trust a drow female anywhere near my manhood."

Jarlaxle burst into laughter again, and laughed longer. "A drow female with intent to bed is one of the most dangerous creatures in all of Toril. I will make up any excuse possible to avoid that fate."

Entreri wrinkled his nose. "That is because you're wise."

Jarlaxle grinned at him. "Some view it as wise to make a bid for Patron." He realized he needed to explain that. "A Matron Mother's primary mate. Patron is usually a temporary position, but those males who do serve as Patrons are generally protected by the Matron Mother and assigned leadership over all the males in the household. Usually, the Matron Mother also discourages other females from giving her Patron orders."

He shook his head, his smile fading. "It amounts to males competing for the one safe spot in the house. I find it pitiable."

Zaknafein's face flashed before Jarlaxle's eyes, and he looked away, across the mountain peaks they headed towards. "The rewards are small, when one factors in the service to the Matron Mother required by the job. Too small a reward to be worth the trouble."

"I imagine the position is not ultimately safe, either," Entreri said. "And I notice that Jarlaxle has removed himself entirely from that equation, making himself the patron of his own house."

Jarlaxle nodded, pulling his gaze away from the mountains and back to Artemis. He gave Artemis a small smile, grateful for his partner's reminder. "Indeed. If one cannot win, why play? Making up a new game and a new position in that game is only logical."

"Indeed." And this was the basis of Entreri's respect for Jarlaxle. Jarlaxle was an understandable entity, given his motivations as a mercenary, but he was also a self-made success. Cunning, insightful, intelligent, talented... those were qualities that drew Entreri's attention to people.

They made it to the foothills of the Firesteap Mountains in an hour. In spite of the bright sunshine, the foothills were still ugly, and the sunlight seemed to make it worse by casting dark shadows. Steep sides on either side of the trail cast it into blackness over and over again as they nudged their horses up the gentle incline. Jarlaxle stopped smiling and became vigilant, looking around for ambushes and consulting his magical items discreetly for warnings.

Entreri was tense, and he could sense that his horse was uneasy as well. It was the perfect situation for an attack, and Entreri scanned his surroundings for danger.

Suddenly, sounds of a battle ahead echoed through the pass. Jarlaxle found the source confusing even with his hearing, but after a moment he could place it. "Ahead, around that bend to the right. No more than a hundred yards."

Enteri nodded and pre-empitively drew his dagger. His horse whinnied, but he edged him forward carefully.

Jarlaxle drew his fire wand and nudged Naim, who was remarkably silent. The stallion's ears spoke instead, flattening. "I'll protect you," Jarlaxle murmured. "Go forward."

That seemed to do the trick, because the stallion moved.

Creeping to the bend in the trail seemed to take forever, but Jarlaxle finally got a good view of the battlefield. Up ahead, drenched in bright sunlight, the pass widened, and there men in armor fought a band of hobgoblins. Jarlaxle didn't think they would be detected; they were in the shadows and downwind.

One of the men twisted to avoid being split in two with an axe and booted the hobgoblin in the face. There was an audible crunch, and the hobgoblin howled. In the process, the man's cape fluttered out in such a way that Jarlaxle saw the white castle tower on the red background.

Jarlaxle glanced at Artemis. "A patrol from Innarlith," he murmured. "Note the symbol the men are wearing on their capes: the same symbol worn by city guards. This is certainly a group of Pristoleph's men." Ransar Pristoleph was the current ruler of Innarlith, and the reason the men were out here. Pristoleph had assigned part of his military to the pass to keep it open.

Entreri wasn't particularly moved to help, although he did want to pass. Normally, he would have attempted to slip around them, but he knew he'd have to confer with Jarlaxle. "Indeed," he said, affecting boredom.

Jarlaxle nodded. "I say we stay and watch. The patrol's job is to keep the pass clear for travelers; we need not help unless the hobgoblins overwhelm them."

Entreri returned the nod and merely watched. His horse remained calm, as though knowing its enemy had somehow abated its sense of foreboding. Hobgoblins were hideous creatures but not very challenging in a fight.

Jarlaxle watched patiently as the patrol methodically worked through the hobgoblin forces. He noted they were well-trained. The men watched each other's backs, and no single person tried anything heroic. The patrol seemed poised to win.

A flash of movement high above the battlefield drew Jarlaxle's eye. He didn't like what he saw. A hobgoblin shaman, decked out in skins and animal skulls, stepped out from behind a boulder on the cliff above and raised his staff.

Jarlaxle shot off a fireball from his staff first. The roaring 'whuff' of a fireball being discharged would blow their cover, but a shaman's first move in a situation like this would be to turn the pass into a death trap.

He could imagine boulders raining down from on high to crush everyone. That would ruin his day.

The fireball flew true, and the surprised shaman collapsed, rolling to put himself out.

Two archers sprang out from hiding on the cliff.

Jarlaxle grimaced and fired off daggers from his bracers. He didn't want to use up the charges on his wand so early in the day.

The patrol finished off the hobgoblins in the pass with them and noticed the interference from above, but Jarlaxle was too busy to reveal himself. The shots were hard, but after a few daggers landing home in the chest, Jarlaxle scored through the eye of one archer and the throat of the other.

The shaman got back up.

Jarlaxle swore and pulled his ice wand. The ice wand was stronger than the fire wand. A blast of blue ice coiled around the shaman and froze him, possibly killing him. In any case, the ice spell would buy time. Unlike natural ice, magical ice didn't melt in the sun.

"Ho there!" one of the patrolmen called in a harsh voice. "Come out where I can see you!"

Jarlaxle sheepishly nudged Naim out of the shadows and sheathed his wand, holding up both hands to show they were empty.

Entreri dutifully followed. "Please excuse our interference," he said with well-feigned politeness, "but we figured a shaman didn't bode well for you." Or for their chances of getting through the pass, for that matter.

The patrolmen relaxed with a ripple of slumping shoulders.

A man with a captain's mark on his shoulder plate walked forward and flipped up the visor of his helm to reveal a weary, middle-aged face. "We appreciate the help. Please excuse the wariness. Sometimes bands of hobgoblins fight each other. The ugly brutes fight over territory all the time. If we'd gotten in the middle of that..." He left the sentence hanging.

Jarlaxle dropped his hands, relieved this wouldn't be a repeat of Shayleigh's 'stop and yield' routine. He was still a little raw from the wood elf's treatment of him. Liar or not, he hadn't actually done any harm.

"It's quite alright," Jarlaxle spoke up. "You have every reason to ask who is lurking in the shadows during a battle."

The patrol captain grinned. "The way should be clear ahead. We just came from there. We're working our way back towards the city. Innarlith."

"We came from there," Jarlaxle said.

"If you're coming back, we'll probably meet again," the captain said. "This is our full time job, and it's not going to end any time soon. These buggers seem to be breeding faster than we can kill them."

Jarlaxle tipped his hat. "I sympathize with your predicament. If we meet again, we shall fight together."

"Thanks." The captain seemed genuinely appreciative. Not many people probably offered to help.

Of course, Jarlaxle wanted the interpersonal points in his favor. "What is your name, friend?"

"Gerid," the captain said. "Gerid Freestone. We're patrol four."

Jarlaxle inclined his head. "I am Jarlaxle Bregan. I would stay longer, but our business is pressing."

"We leave you to it." Gerid bowed. "Good day and safe travel."

"Good day," Jarlaxle replied.

They parted ways. Jarlaxle was glad the pass ahead was sunny, and freshly cleared.

"You probably think me foolish," Jarlaxle said, glancing at his silent companion.

"Do I?" Entreri asked, wondering to what Jarlaxle was referring. Certainly Jarlaxle's politeness with them seemed unnecessary to him, but if Jarlaxle had a reason for it, then he did.

Jarlaxle grinned. "That is a question only you can answer. But I suppose if you're questioning whether one should feel foolish for being courteous to the right people, then that's a step in the right direction. Cultivating good will in those responsible for one's comfort and safety is never wasted effort in my opinion. Especially when it can be as simple as offering help that does not endanger oneself, or the offer to exchange names. Exchanging names seems a custom among humans for creating a friendly atmosphere, so why not employ so simple a tool? At least for me, it is simple. My name is a blank slate."

"It depends on where I am," Entreri said, "and whether I wish to leave any tracks behind for those who might be tracking me. But do not think I have never used social graces as a tool. My personal lack of use on a daily basis doesn't extend to situations where charm will aid me. Granted, you carry it into the realm of hypothetical benefit, and I do not. But I would not assume you play the fool. Time will tell me the results of your experiment."

Jarlaxle nodded, satisfied.

He realized only after they lasped into comfortable silence that he was still testing the assassin. Still feeling out Artemis' thought process, how his behavior would be seen through the assassin's eyes, still mapping out where their styles of dealing with the world overlapped.

_What is my estimation so far?_ he asked himself.

Against all odds, Artemis Entreri was a good partner. The self-professed loner was more flexible and tolerant of Jarlaxle's ways than any drow. Unlike past candidates for partnership, Entreri willingly conversed with him and had taken the step towards intimacy. Jarlaxle would never forget that conversation near Spirit Soaring; he treasured it. Artemis had shared something personal, even if that something was not fully explained. It didn't need to be for Jarlaxle to know the value of it.

This morning, Jarlaxle had returned by speaking of things personal to him, such as the treatment of Patrons and the unwanted voracity of drow females. It had been an experiment, a gamble, and the risk had paid off. Artemis responded with understanding and respect.

In the future...For once, Jarlaxle could not put into coherent thoughts what he wanted for the future. But he wanted this partnership to prosper and grow, and he wanted Artemis to be well, and for both of them to continue sharing personal things at a comfortable pace. That much he knew.


End file.
